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FRANK  A.  MUNSEY. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES 


A    TALE   OF  NORTH  AND  SOUTH 


RICHARD  MACE 


NEW  YORK 

FRANK  A.    MUNSEY 
1897 


COPYRIGHT.  I&)7 
BY 

FRANK  A.  MUNSEY 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 


i. 

A  TINY  little  apartment  on  a  cross  street 
in  New  York,  not  too  far  from  the 
"  Tenderloin  District."  There  is  a  degage 
air  about  the  little  parlor  which  is  extremely 
fascinating  to  the  man  who  likes  a  cigar  after 
dinner,  and  to  put  his  feet  on  something. 
There  are  ottomans  and  cushions,  endless 
cushions  covered  with  bright  striped  stuffs 
that  look  as  though  tired  heads  knew  them. 

The  piano  is  open,  and  so  is  the  writing 
desk.  There  is  music  on  one,  and  scattered 
leaves  on  the  other.  By  the  one  table  sit 
the  husband  and  wife,  whose  gatherings  of  fluff 
have  gone  to  create  this  nest :  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Baylor. 

"  Two  hundred  and  eighty,  and  six  hundred 

and  forty,  certainly  make — let  me  see.      Yes  ! 

i 

2047017 


2  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

They  certainly  do  make  nine  hundred  and 
twenty.  The  Lord  only  knows  where  it  is, 
but  we  are  some  better  off  than  we  ought  to 
be." 

"Count  your  money,"  says  Mrs.  Baylor,  with 
the  inspiration  of  a  bright  idea. 

Mr.  Baylor  goes  down  into  his  pockets,  and 
comes  up  with  a  little  leather  purse,  which  is 
evidently  the  sole  receptacle  of  his  worldly 
wealth,  for  after  he  discovers  it,  he  goes  no 
farther  in  his  process  of  exploration. 

He  takes  out  three  or  four  untidy  wads, 
which  spread  out  into  bank  notes.  There 
are  also  in  the  purse  two  blue  coupons  torn 
from  theater  tickets,  a  key,  and  a  crumpled 
card,  all  of  which  he  empties  out. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  Mary  says,  taking  up  the  bits 
of  pasteboard.  "  Here  are  our  coupons  for  last 
night.  Wasift  Ada  Rehan  the  loveliest  crea 
ture  you  ever  saw7  ?  That  voice  of  hers  is 
just  music." 

"  She  wouldn't  be  anything  if  it  were  not 
for  Daly.  He  forces  her.  She'd  be  play 
ing " 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  3 

There  was  an  angry  flush  upon  Mrs.  Bay 
lor's  face,  but  her  voice  was  calm  and  entirely 
free  from  expression. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  she  ought  to  have 
gone  on  the  stage  from  upper  Fifth  Avenue, 
to  be  able  to  play  in  the  parts  she  plays  at 
Daly's?" 

"  Well,  not  much  !  "  says  Mr.  Baylor  with 
emphasis,  still  engaged  in  unfolding  and  try 
ing  to  decipher  the  card  he  has  taken  out. 
He  wonders  what  in  the  deuce  it  is,  and  how 
he  ever  happened  to  put  it  there. 

There  is  mollification  at  once  on  the  very 
brilliantly  colored  and  mobile  face  of  Mrs. 
Baylor,  and  she  turns  her  attention  again  to 
the  hat  slie  is  trimming.  Both  of  them  seem 
to  have  forgotten  the  little  pile  of  money  on 
the  table. 

"  This  card  !  Why,  this  card  is  that  ad 
dress  at  Atlantic  City — that  little  house  where 
Janeway  was  last  year,  when  he  went  to  write 
up  that  story  about  the  Middletons.  We 
meant  to  go  down  there  this  spring  for  a 
while,  but  I  suppose  your  everlasting  anxiety 


4  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

to  go  down  to  Ellenbro'  and  live  in  a  house 
of  your  own  will  knock  us  out  of  all  that." 
Mr.  Baylor  lighted  a  cigarette  and  puffed  at  it 
with  the  true  spirit  of  the  dilettante.  "  I  only 
hope,  my  dear  Polly,  that  you'll  like  it  when 
you  get  there." 

"  Like  it?  Of  course  I'll  like  it,"  says  Mrs. 
Baylor  with  conviction.  "  Who  wouldn't  like 
it  ?  Aren't  we  going  to  live  in  our  own  big 
house,  with  room  to  turn  round  in,  and  isn't 
Dolly  going  to  have  a  pony,  and  I  a  garden  ? 
And  aren't  we  going  to  have  money  enough 
so  that  you  can  write  your  great  play  in  peace 

and  comfort,  and "  Mrs.  Baylor's  voice 

ended  in  a  gasp  of  satisfaction. 

"  We  can  go  abroad  on  that  money,"  says 
Mr.  Baylor,  "and  live  about  in  all  the  places  we 
have  dreamed  of.  We  can  go  down  to  Al 
giers,  to  Florence,  to  Nice,  to  Monte  Carlo. 
You  can  live  very  cheaply  over  there.  Three 
thousand  dollars  a  year  isn't  much  to  keep  up 
a  big  old  place  like  Castle  Hill,  but  it  is 
riches  to  us  if  we  keep  on  living  as  we've  been 
doing." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  5 

"  That's  exactly  what  I'm  just  not  going  to 
do.  It's  all  very  well  for  you  and  me,  but  Dolly 
is  going  to  be  brought  up  a  lady  !  " 

Mr.  Baylor  winced  just  the  least  trifle. 

"  I  hope  she'd  be  that  wherever  she  was 
brought  up — like  her  mother  before  her,"  he 
said  with  courtesy. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,  Dick,  just  as 
well  as  I  know  myself.  I  want  Dolly  to 
always  have  things  like  other  girls.  I  want 
her  to  have  a  home,  not  to  be  knocked  about 
from  pillar  to  post,  and  friends — and  you 
know." 

Mr.  Baylor  was  of  the  blond  type,  consider 
ably  older  than  his  wife  and  rather  blase.  He 
hated  with  a  hatred  that  passeth  understand 
ing,  anything  sentimental  or  disagreeable. 
Now  he  went  back  to  his  wads  of  money  and 
his  card. 

"  There's  forty  dollars  here.  According  to 
that  account,  I  ought  to  have  ninety.  I'm 
blessed  if  I  know  what's  become  of  the  rest 
of  it." 

"What's  the  difference?"  says  Mrs.  Baylor 


6  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

with  serenity.  "  What  difference  does  money 
make  to  us  now?  We're  rich  !  " 

A  shrill  whistle  comes  up  from  the  street, 
and  there  is  a  sharp,  short  ring  at  the  flat 
bell.  Mrs.  Baylor  puts  her  pretty  head  out  of 
the  window. 

"  It's  the  postman,"  she  announces,  and 
having  delivered  herself  of  this  superfluous 
piece  of  information,  she  goes  calmly  back  to 
the  mirror  and  devotes  herself  to  trying  the 
effect  of  various  eccentric  bends  in  the  brim 
of  the  new  hat. 

"/y«Y  it  a  beauty?"  says  Mrs.  Baylor,  with 
justifiable  pride.  "  When  it  comes  to  hats,  it 
takes  an  artist's  touch.  For  my  part,  I  pity 
the  woman  whose  only  resource  is  a  milliner's 
shop.  Poor  witless  things  !  " 

Mrs.  Baylor  has  been  married  four  years, 
but  her  cheeks  are  as  rosy  and  her  eyes  as 
happy  and  gay,  and  her  movements  as  free  as 
though  she  were  sixteen  and  just  out  of  a 
gymnasium.  She  had  never  been  of  sufficient 
consequence  to  have  her  beauty  questioned. 
Most  of  the  people  she  knows  are  men,  men 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  7 

who  are  her  husband's  friends  and  hers,  and 
they  have  frankly  admired  her;  told  her  when 
her  clothes  were  becoming,  and  criticised 
them  when  they  were  not.  But  it  would  be 
an  ugly  garment  and  a  very  critical  man  that 
must  come  together  to  find  Mary  Baylor 
anything  but  sweet  and  charming  and  delight 
ful.  The  sweetness  of  springtime  is  in  her 
breath,  and  the  sunny  heart  of  summer  in  her 
smile. 

Baylor  thinks  all  this  as  he  looks  at  her, 
posing  before  him,  light  footed,  the  hat  she 
has  just  made  set  jauntily  on  her  head. 

"  Mary,  my  darling,"  he  says  calmly,  as  one 
stating  a  judicial  fact,  "you'll  simply  loathe  it 
down  in  Ellenbro'." 

"  Not  I,"  says  Mrs.  Baylor. 

There  is  a  quick  staccato  knock  at  the  door, 
and  almost  before  it  can  be  answered  there  is 
a  good  humored,  foreign  looking  face,  the  face 
of  a  man  of  sixty,  whom  everybody  would 
recognize  as  owning  his  years  and  describe 
as  "  looking  forty."  Poncet  was  "  well  pre 
served." 


8  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  have  some  letters  for  you,"  he  said  gaily, 
before  he  could  be  greeted  other  than  by 
Mary's  smile  and  gesture  of  invitation.  "One 
for  madarne,"  presenting  it  with  a  bow,  "and 
another  for  monsieur,"  and  he  held  the  busi 
ness  envelope  out  to  Baylor's  indifferent 
fingers. 

"  Sit  down,  Poncet.  Sit  down  and  have  a 
cigar.  What's  new  in  New  York  ?  " 

Baylor  brought  out  a  box  of  cigars,  and  saw 
his  visitor  established  before  he  turned  to  his 
own  letter. 

Neither  of  them  noticed  Mary.  She  had 
opened  the  envelope,  after  having  first  looked 
at  the  address  as  though  a  recognition  of  the 
handwriting  were  the  only  possible  means  she 
could  have  of  learning  the  writer,  and  then 
had  unfolded  the  sheet  with  curiosity.  As  she 
saw  the  first  words  she  drew  in  her  breath  with 
a  little  gasp,  and  looked  at  her  husband  with 
what  was  almost  fear  in  her  face.  If  Baylor 
had  seen  it,  it  would  have  astonished  him  be 
yond  words.  Secrets  and  fears  were  unknown 
between  these  two.  Mary  put  the  letter  in 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  9 

its  envelope  and  tucked  it  under  her  belt, 
and  gathering  together  the  remnants  of  her 
hat  materials,  started  to  leave  the  room. 

As  she  passed  Baylor  he  looked  up  at  her. 

"  Who  was  your  letter  from,  Polly  ?  Old 
Griggs  ?  How  is  the  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  Mary  said  in  a  constrained 
voice,  and  left  the  room.  Outside  she  took 
the  letter  out  and  read  it  quickly,  and  then, 
her  face  white  and  anxious,  tore  it  into  small 
bits,  and  opening  the  window,  let  them  fly  out 
into  the  street. 


II. 


'"pHE  little  rooms  at  Atlantic  City  were  in 
an  airy  building  attached  to  a  bath  house. 
The  morning  sun  streamed  in  at  the  windows, 
and  the  wind  brought  the  spray  of  the  ocean, 
which  lapped  and  rolled  and  pounded  away  as 
though  it  were  inviting  the  world  to  come  and 
play  with  it. 

Mary  dressed  her  baby  in  the  dainty  little 
garments  her  own  fingers  had  fashioned  while 
Mr.  Baylor  drank  his  coffee,  which  he  always 
took  in  bed,  and  read  over  the  morning 
paper. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  exclaimed,  "  here's  our  next 
door  neighbor,  staying  at  the  hotel  just  be 
hind  us." 

"  Who  ?  Not  —  surely  not  Poncet  from 
276." 

"  My  innocent  child  !  Our  neighbors  in 
these  days  mean  the  inhabitants  of  the  sylvan 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  1 1 

shades  of  Ellenbro'.  Listen  to  this,  in  the 
Atlantic  City  arrivals :  '  General  and  Mrs. 
Courtney,  Mr.  Reginald  Courtney,  and  Miss 
Smith.' 

"  Disguised  under  the  plebeian  name  of 
Smith,  my  dear  Mary,  is  the  richest  girl  in 
our  part  of  the  country.  She  is  the  catch. 
She  has  a  broad  face  like  a  Holstein  cow,  and 
is  about  as  intelligent.  But  she  is  pure  white. 
She  hasn't  any  black  spots,"  added  Mr.  Bay 
lor,  as  though  he  feared  that  Miss  Smith 
might  be  mistaken  for  the  animal  mentioned 
unless  he  explained.  "  The  Courtneys  want 
to  catch  her  for  Reginald,  who  isn't  a  half 
bad  fellow,  and  who  does,  I  believe,  like  Miss 
Smith  first  rate.  My  dear,  good  sister  Eliza 
supplied  me  with  the  current  gossip  of  the 
county  when  I  saw  her  last.  Good  gracious, 
Mary,  do  you  think  you  can  ever  break  into 
the  harness  of  going  about  and  minding  your 
neighbors'  business?  Not  that  they'll  be 
likely  to  offer  you  the  opportunity  very  soon. 
We  are  black  sheep,  my  dear,  and  it  will  prob 
ably  be  some  time  before  we  are  taken  into 


12  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

the  confidences  of  our  first  families  down  in 
Ellenbro'.  They  never  were  very  fond  of  me." 

u  And  I,"  Mary  said,  flushing,  "  am  entirely 
out  of  it.  Not  that  I  care.  But  I  am  not 
going  to  believe  that  people  will  not  be  kind 
to  me.  I  am  sure  I  want  everybody  to  have 
his  own  good  time  in  his  own  good  way.  I  am 
not  going  to  pretend  I  am  trying  to  be  like 
them.  I  wouldrft  be  !  " 

"  You  are  better  than  the  best  of  the  lot, 
my  dear,  and  the  reason  I  love  you  is  because 
you  are  such  an  everlasting  simpleton.  I 
hope,  for  my  own  sake,  that  the  old  tabbies 
never  lick  you  into  shape.  It  might  be  better 
for  Dolly  to  have  a  conventional  mamma,  see 
ing  that  it  is  likely  that  she  will  never  have  a 
conventional  papa.  She  will  need  somebody 
to  marry  her  off " 

"  I  will  not  be  made  over.  I  am  me"  said 
Mrs.  Baylor  with  fine  scorn.  "  And  Dolly  will 
need  no  one  to  marry  her  off." 

"  Mary,  my  love,  you  are  developing  a  very 
ill  bred  habit  of  interrupting  people  in  the 
middle  of  their  sentences." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  13 

Baylor  had  lighted  a  cigar,  and  was  in  the 
midst  of  an  editorial  in  a  New  York  paper, 
but  he  was  keeping  one  side  of  his  indolent 
consciousness  toward  his  wife. 

"  My  ways  may  all  be  ill  bred,  according  to 
your  family's  standards,  but  any  way  they  are 
honest.  I  say  exactly  what  I  mean." 

"  And  tell  all  you  know." 

A  quick,  embarrassed  little  flush  came  up 
into  Mrs.  Baylor's  face,  and  she  turned  to  little 
Dolly's  bonnet,  tying  the  strings  with  her  face 
almost  inside. 

"  I  declare,"  Mr.  Baylor  said,  "  if  McDonald 
hasn't  gone  and  written  up  all  that  stuff  I 
told  him  the  other  day  about  famous  gam 
blers.  And  here  it  is,  illustrated  in  this  sheet. 
I  suppose  he  thought  he  had  to  be  remunerated 
for  his  losses  at  poker  that  last  night." 

"  I  hate  gambling,"  Mary  said  vindictively. 

Mr.  Baylor  declined  to  answer,  and  argu 
ment  was  senseless.  Little  Dolly  was  curled 
and  dressed  and  bonneted  by  this  time.  Her 
mother  turned  her  around  and  looked  at  her 
admiringly,  as  though  she  were  a  big  doll. 


14  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Go  and  kiss  your  papa  by  by,  baby,  and 
tell  him  he  is  a  lazy  thing  not  to  go  to  break 
fast  with  us  !  I  know  you  don't  want  to  take 
us  down  to  Ellenbro' — we're  a  bother — but 
I'm  going ! "  And  Mrs.  Baylor  shuts  the 
door  with  emphasis,  as  though  her  morning 
coffee  lay  in  that  new  home  she  was  so  anxious 
to  see. 


III. 

TT  is  still  before  noon.  Up  in  one  of  the 
pavilions  there  is  a  little  group  of  four. 
The  sort  of  people  who  are  always  described 
as  a  "  family  party,"  the  sort  of  people  who 
are  invariably  recognized  everywhere  as  being 
from  "  out  of  town,"  to  their  own  eternal  mys 
tification. 

They  bought  their  clothes  at  the  best 
establishments  in  New  York,  and  yet  nobody 
seemed  to  take  them  for  New  Yorkers.  Not 
that  they  were  particularly  anxious  to  be 
known  as  city  people.  The  name  of  Courtney 
was  too  well  known  in  that  part  of  the  middle 
South  where  they  lived  for  them  to  envy  any 
man  his  habitation. 

General    Courtney,    general   of   militia  for 

twenty  five  years,  was  a  large  gentleman  with 

a  quiet  manner  and  a  good  deal  of  gray  hair, 

on  head  and  lip.     Mrs.  Courtney,  who  would 

15 


1 6  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

appear  on  her  tombstone  as  his  "  beloved  and 
respected  wife,"  held  her  head  up  with  the  air 
of  a  woman  who  has  her  way  in  about  every 
position  in  which  she  is  thrown,  an  air  calcu 
lated  to  impress  the  weak  and  cause  mirth  in 
the  strong,  instead  of  inciting  them  to  battle, 
as  is  evidently  sometimes  Mrs.  Courtney's 
intention. 

Reginald  Courtney  is  a  fair  type  of  a  big, 
healthy,  not  overly  wise  young  man,  who  treats 
the  world  he  does  not  know  with  courtesy. 
The  creases  in  his  trousers  are  in  the  right 
place,  and  his  shoes  are  correct,  but  there  is 
no  sophistication  in  his  face.  He  is  treasurer 
of  a  company  for  mining  coal  in  the  West 
Virginia  hills,  and  there  are  signs  that  his  face 
has  known  the  sun.  It  is  not  a  particularly 
handsome  face,  but  the  body  below  it  is 
straight  and  sturdy  and  tall,  and  the  head 
above  it  looks  anything  but  empty.  Reg  has 
never  had  an  ache  since  he  was  born,  and  if 
clean  living  and  healthy  ways  are  factors,  he 
never  will.  He  is  one  with  whom  the  world 
seems  to  have  gone  well. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  17 

By  his  side  sits  the  girl  who,  from  her  baby 
hood,  has  been  destined  to  become  his  wife. 
A  distant  cousin,  born  into  one  of  the  oldest 
families  in  the  middle  South,  she  has  the  un 
usual  good  fortune  to  have  an  estate  which 
even  the  civil  war  did  not  affect,  so  great  and 
solid  and  -well  invested  was  it.  An  orphan, 
she  inherited  her  whole  fortune  from  her 
father's  father,  a  canny  old  man,  who  had  more 
English  than  American  blood,  and  who  left 
his  entire  estate  to  his  son's  eldest  child,  to  be 
held  in  trust  until  the  heir  had  reached  the 
age  of  twenty  five.' 

Edyth  had  been  given  into  Mrs.  Courtney's 
hands  when  she  was  only  five,  and  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  conventions  of  her  class. 

People  in  Virginia  did  not  call  her  plain, 
although  an  irreverent  Northerner,  accustomed 
to  the  dash  of  city  heiresses,  might  have 
thought  so.  There  is  too  satisfied  an  expres 
sion  in  Miss  Smith's  face,  although  she  is 
unaffected  and  simple  in  her  manner. 

She  affects  some  sensitive  souls  much  as 
an  unripe  peach  might.  She  has  not  gained 


1 8  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

the  ripeness  and  sweetness  which  comes  with 
experience  and  the  contact  with  the  light  of 
the  world's  day.  She  is  a  trifle  overdressed. 
She  is  only  twenty  years  old,  but  there  are 
diamond  earrings  in  her  ears,  and  her  gown  is 
silk  instead  of  cotton  or  wool,  this  summer 
morning  by  the  sea. 

Reginald,  like  all  fine  men,  knows  nothing 
whatever  about  women's  dress,  but  some  way 
Edyth  doesn't  look  just  right.  He  thinks 
vaguely  that  after  they  are  married  he  will 
get  her  to  go  about  with  him  alone  and  be 
more  unconventional.  There  are  few  mar 
riages  made  in  which  one  or  the  other  of  the 
contracting  parties  does  not  intend  to  make 
some  future  alterations  in  the  beloved  one. 

General  Courtney  sits  with  his  face  toward 
the  board  walk,  looking  into  the  visage  of 
each  passerby  with  that  expectation  of  find 
ing  an  acquaintance  which  never  leaves  a 
man  who  has  been  brought  up  in  a  country 
place  where  his  own  personality  is  distinct, 
however  much  he  may  travel  about  this  over 
grown  world. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  19 

He  started  suddenly  as  a  well  dressed  figure 
in  white  flannels  and  a  broad  sailor  hat 
lounged  along,  and  then,  with  a  glance  at  his 
wife,  sat  down  again.  The  passerby  was  ab 
sorbed  in  his  cigarette,  and  seemed  to  see  no 
body  through  his  half  closed  eyes. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Courtney  asked.  "  Any 
Ellenbro'  people?" 

"  Well,  yes,  you  might  say  so,"  the  general 
said,  as  though  he  were  apologizing  for  owning 
the  fact.  "  It  was  Richard  Baylor.  Since  he 
has  inherited  Castle  Hill,  I  suppose  we  might 
call  him  a  neighbor." 

A  look  of  superior  virtue  came  over  Mrs. 
Courtney's  face,  if  anything  could  be  superior 
to  her  usual  exalted  expression. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  in  a  casual  tone,  "  if— 
er — he  is  alone  ?  " 

"  He  was  just  now." 

"It  is  to  be  sincerely  hoped  that  he  will 
not  bring  his — er — family  down  to  Castle 
Hill." 

"  Why  not  ? "  Mr.  Reginald  Courtney 
dashed  into  the  conversation  with  an  air  that 


20  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

was  a  trifle  more  than  mildly  curious.  His 
tone  sounded  as  if  he  might  already  anticipate 
the  answer  he  would  receive  and  was  prepared 
to  take  up  an  independent  position  in  regard 
to  it.  But  his  mother  felt  herself  on  indisput 
able  heights. 

"  I  hope,  my  son,  that  knowing,  as  you 
must,  the  character  borne  by  Richard  Baylor, 
and  the  unhappy  marriage  he  has  made,  you 
will  readily  understand  why  it  is  not  desirable 
that  he  should  come  to  Ellenbro'  and  place 
himself  and  his  friends  in  the  midst  of  our 
community  of  gently  bred  people." 

"  Most  of  whom  are  related  to  him." 

"  Which  makes  it  all  the  more  unfortu 
nate." 

"  I  can't  see  what  is  so  terrible  about  Bay 
lor.  From  all  I  hear  about  him  he  is  a  clever 
fellow,  who  has  been  in  the  swim  of  affairs 
and  mingled  with  people  who  were  of  conse 
quence  sufficiently  to  make  a  very  comfortable 
income  as  a  newspaper  writer.  Nobody  seems 
to  have  anything  to  say  about  him  except 
that  he  plays  poker  too  much.  As  for  his 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  21 

wife,  I  don't  believe  Baylor  would  have  mar 
ried  anybody  who  wasn't  pretty  and  nice  and 
young.  I  don't  see  why  a  nice,  young,  pretty 
woman  at  Castle  Hill  will  not  be  an  acqui 
sition." 

Mrs.  Courtney's  face  had  settled  into  its 
hardest  lines. 

"  I  can  hardly  consider  a  young  woman  who 
was  picked  up  at  the  stage  door,  one  might 
say,  as  an  acquisition  to  Ellenbro'  and  the 
county.  However  sorry  I  shall  feel  for  dear 
Eliza,  I  still  have  my  principles — my  duty — 
and  I  cannot  see  how  these  are  to  be  overcome 
sufficiently  for  me  to  recognize  Richard  Bay 
lor's  wife." 

"  Well,  now,  mother,  you  are  flying  right  in 
the  face  of  all  modern  ideas.  There  was  a 
time  when  an  actress  was  not  a  social  light, 
but  that  time  has  gone  by  long  ago.  They 
are  asked  everywhere,  especially  in  L/ondon, 
which  you  say  is  the  only  properly  regulated 
city  on  earth.  They  make  a  point  of  having 
actors  at  the  very  best  houses.  The  Prince 
of  Wales " 


22  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Courtney,  in  a  tone 
which  would  have  done  credit  to  the  British 
matron  herself,  "  that  my  son  will  never  "look 
upon  the  moral  character  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales  as  a  model.  I  am  very  sure  that  his 
dear  mother  has  never  entertained  actresses." 
Mrs.  Courtney  spoke  the  word  as  though  it 
was  a  medical  term,  necessary  to  use,  but 
rather  indelicate. 

"Is  there  anything  wrong  with  Mrs.  Baylor's 
moral  character?" 

Edyth  was  looking  out  over  the  ocean  ar 
though  she  had  heard  none  of  the  conversa 
tion,  but  Mrs.  Courtney  looked  at  her  and  back 
to  her  son  warningly,  but  the  irrepressible 
went  on. 

"  Because  if  there  isn't,  I  think  we  might  be 
glad  to  know  her.  We  are  pretty  well  ac 
quainted  with  Mrs.  Chapin." 

"  Reginald,  if  you  have  any  unpleasant 
allusions  to  make,  I  must  request  you  to  con 
fine  them  to  the  hours  when  you  are  not 
in  Edyth's  society,  at  least.  I  suppose  you 
men  may  act  as  you  please.  If  you  find 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  23 

Richard  Baylor  agreeable,  nothing  we  may 
say  will  prevent  your  seeking  his  society.  I 
hope  you  have  too  much  strength  of  mind  to  be 
drawn  into  his  wretched  habit  of  gambling,  and 
I  trust  you  will  remain  away  from  his  house." 

"  And  Mrs.  Baylor  is  to  get  all  the  cold 
shoulder.  I  don't  call  that  justice  exactly. 
She  wasn't  on  the  stage,  any  way.  She  only 
studied  for  the  stage.  Plenty  society  women 
have  gone  through  that  school." 

"  I  think  you  can  hardly  call  it  the  same 
thing.  As  I  understand  it,  this  Mrs.  Baylor 
is  the  daughter  of  an  actress,  and  had  a  sister 
who  was  on  the  stage  for  a  time,  in  a  very  in 
ferior  position,  until  she  made  a  miserable 
marriage  and  died  in  Paris." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Martha,"  Miss  Smith  called,  in 
a  low  but  excited  tone,  "  here  is  that  lady  we 
saw  yesterday.  It  must  be  Mrs.  Colonel  Stan 
ley  ;  she  answers  exactly  to  the  description  I 
read  of  her  in  the  papers  yesterday.  Look  at 
her  go  into  the  water.  Did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  so  graceful  ?  " 

Mrs.    Courtney  put   up   her  lorgnette   and 


24  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

watched  the  slim,  perfectly  clad  figure  walk 
like  a  princess  down  over  the  sands  and  into 
the  water.  Her  bathing  dress  fitted  her  figure 
like  the  tunic  of  a  young  Greek,  and  the 
proud  neck  upheld  the  beautifully  carried 
head  with  a  conspicuous  pride.  There  was 
no  timid  stopping  to  dillydally  with  the 
waves,  to  put  one  foot  out  and  then  another, 
and  draw  back  with  a  little  shiver.  She 
walked  almost  up  to  the  water,  and  then 
with  a  rush  went  straight  into  the  heart  of  a 
great,  white  crested  breaker,  coming  up  with 
her  face  wet,  but  brilliant. 

She  gave  two  or  three  strokes  with  her 
round,  strong,  white  arms,  and  made  her  way 
out  into  the  incoming  swells,  and  then,  as  a 
great, green,  glassy  wave  rose  above  her,  ready 
to  sweep  over  her  head,  she  put  her  hands  on 
her  waist,  and  springing  with  the  motion  of 
the  water,  rose  above  it,  bounding  into  the 
air.  Her  scarlet  cap  rose  two  or  three  times, 
defying  the  waves  to  go  over  it,  and  then  it 
went  out,  a  touch  of  color  as  far  as  it  could 
be  seen. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  25 

"  I  should  think  she  would  be  afraid,"  Edyth 
said,  almost  shivering. 

"  The  Lacys  are  a  fearless  race,"  Mrs.  Court 
ney  replied,  as  one  would  repeat  history.  "  I 
can  remember  that  old  General  Lacy  was 
said  to  be  the  bravest  man  in  the  army.  He 
was  a  second  cousin  of  your  grandfather 
Mason,  Reginald.  It  is  the  same  blood.  There 
have  never  been  any  cowards  in  our  families. 
It  that  really  is  Helen  Stanley,  we  certainly 
must  go  and  call  upon  her.  It  would  be  very 
strange  if  relatives  should  be  in  the  same  city 
and  not  see  each  other." 

"  From  what  I  hear  of  Mrs.  Colonel  Stanley, 
and  from  what  the  newspapers  say  of  her,  I 
reckon  she  has  about  enough  occupation  in 
attending  to  the  many  friends  she  has  now. 
They  say  she  came  down  here,  where  she 
knows  nobody,  so  that  she  might  have  the  sea 
bathing  and  not  be  annoyed  by  people." 

"  We  can  hardly  be  considered  in  the  light 
of  people.  Her  own  kin  !  " 

Mrs.  Courtney  was  rapidly  losing  her  temper 
with  her  son. 


26  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  She  is  a  remarkable  swimmer,''  said  Gen 
eral  Courtney,  putting  up  the  field  glass,  which 
he  considered  an  indispensable  addition  to  a 
seaside  toilet.  It  is  supposed  that  he  imbibed 
the  idea  from  reading  of  old  sea  captains  and 
their  glasses.  Most  worldly  experiences  had 
come  to  General  Courtney  vicariously. 

"  But,  dear  me,  Helen  Lacy,  old  Bob  Lacy's 
daughter,  must  be  forty,  if  she's  a  day.  Her 
mother " 

"  Not  so  old  as  that,''  begins  Mrs.  Courtney, 
when  her  son  Reginald  gives  her  another 
turn. 

"  We  aren't  at  all  sure  that  it  is  Mrs.  Stan 
ley  at  all.  People  seldom  look  like  their  repu 
tations.  This  may  be  one  of  those  very  actresses 
you  so  despise." 

"  I  trust  I  know  a  lady  when  I  see  one," 
says  his  mother  with  dignity.  ''  It  is  not  very 
complimentary  to  say  that  your  cousin,  Mrs. 
Stanley,  looks  like  an  actress." 

"  She's  not  so  near  a  cousin  that  I  feel  as 
though  I  were  exactly  casting  aspersions  upon 
my  immediate  family." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  27 

"  And  then,  too,  you  seem  to  have  taken  up 
the  cudgels  in  defense  of  that  scapegrace, 
Richard  Baylor.'' 

It  is  a  minute  before  Reginald  speaks,  and 
then  there  is  feeling  in  his  voice. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  mother,  that  we  need  to 
add  to,  instead  of  detract  from,  the  stock  of 
sympathy  in  this  world  for  scapegraces." 

And  he  leaves  his  mother  dumb. 

"  Come  along,  Edyth,  let  us  go  off  and  walk 
a  little.  My  knees  are  getting  cramped  by 
sitting  still,"  and  Reginald  gets  up  and  gives 
his  tan  shoes  a  little  shake  that  straightens  his 
trousers,  and  presumably  his  knees. 

Edyth  follows  him  obediently.  Where 
wouldn't  she  follow  Reginald  ?  Her  heart  is 
as  full  of  joy  as  the  sea,  laughing  and  glitter 
ing  away  off  there  to  the  eastern  horizon,  is 
full  of  sparkles.  It  is  reflecting  back  the  light 
which  the  indifferent  sun  is  pouring  down  on 
all  the  earth  alike,  and  the  sea's  case  is  some 
thing  like  poor  Edyth's.  Reginald  is  in  as  little 
lover-like  a  mood  as  possible. 

He  knows  that  he  is  going  to  ask  Edyth  to 


28  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

marry  him.  Of  course  he  is.  He  knows  that 
his  mother  expects  it,  and,  most  of  all,  Edyth 
expects  it.  He  thinks,  with  a  quick  throb  of 
conscience,  of  the  stab  he  has  given  his 
mother  before  he  left.  He  hates  himself  for 
his  defiant  tongue.  He  knows  that  he  cannot 
go  and  apologize  to  her,  because  the  apology 
would  be  but  a  naming  of  the  wound,  and  de 
manding  for  it  a  new  claim  upon  the  conscious 
ness,  and  it  is  something  that  must  be  kept 
hidden  away. 

With  his  impulsive  generosity,  he  makes 
up  his  mind  that  now,  today,  he  will  make 
amends  to  his  mother,  carry  out  her  dearest 
wishes,  and  go  back  to  her  with  Edyth  as  his 
promised  wife.  She  will  forgive  him  then 
for  his  rude  touch  upon  the  family  sorrow, 
the  skeleton  which  can  hurt  even  Mrs.  Court 
ney's  pride.  Her  kiss  of  congratulation  will 
be  a  kiss  of  reconciliation.  He  thinks  ruefully 
that  it  is  his  duty  to  make  up  to  his  mother 
all  she  has  suffered. 

But  what  can  he  say  to  Edyth  ?  He  thinks 
to  himself  that  certainly  nothing  on  earth 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  29 

could  be  harder  than  to  propose  marriage  to 
a  girl  who  has  been  brought  up  in  the  same 
house  with  you.  It  is  perfectly  ridiculous. 

When  Edyth,  a  shy  little  child  of  five,  was 
left  to  General  Courtney's  guardianship,  Mrs. 
Courtney  announced  to  the  world  that  she  took 
up  the  burden  of  being  a  mother  to  a  motherless 
girl  in  a  spirit  of  Christian  charity.  She  openly 
wished  that  this  child  had  been  a  boy,  that 
Reg  might  have  had  a  companion,  and  then 
she  said  she  supposed  it  was  all  for  the  best, 
as  poor  Reg  had  no  sister ;  the  refining  in 
fluence  of  a  girl  in  the  house  would  be  every 
thing. 

And  true  enough,  Mrs.  Courtney  did  her 
duty  in  the  way  of  the  world.  Edyth  had 
been  daintily  and  carefully  brought  up,  with 
the  best  of  young  ladies'  boarding  school 
educations.  She  had  been  taught  art  em 
broidery  as  the  years  went  by,  and  the  making 
of  famous  Virginia  dishes,  and  the  painting  of 
china  to  put  them  in. 

But  it  must  be  confessed  that  poor  Edyth 
had  never  done  any  of  these  things  very  bril- 


30  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

liantly.  She  could  hardly  be  said  to  have 
any  influence  over  Reg,  although  they  were 
together  constantly  during  all  their  child 
hood.  Reginald  had  never  had  but  one  girl 
companion  other  than  Edyth,  and  that  was  a 
pretty  miss  of  ten  who  had  come  out  from 
Baltimore  to  visit  her  aunt  who  lived  near 
the  Courtneys.  Reginald  was  fourteen  and 
Edyth  was  eleven  when  Maude  appeared  oti 
the  scene  and  took  Reg's  boyish  heart  captive. 
She  could  ride  and  swim  and  row  and  climb 
trees  like  a  boy,  and  had  a  sharp  tongue  of 
her  own ;  in  none  of  which  accomplishments 
Edyth  was  at  all  learned. 

Reg  was  her  willing  slave  until  they  were 
riding  tournament  on  the  back  lawn  one  day. 
Maude,  on  her  pony  bareback  and  yelling  like 
a  Comanche  Indian,  galloping  down  with 
lance  poised  to  take  the  ring,  found  herself 
almost  thrown  because  her  pony  had  shied  at 
Edyth's  white  apron,  when  she  sat  on  the 
fence  meekly  looking  on.  Maude  had  called 
her  a  "  spoil  sport "  and  ordered  her  home. 
Reg  picked  up  the  rings  and  went  along, 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  31 

much  to  Mrs.  Courtney's  satisfaction  when  she 
heard  of  it. 

She  would  hardly  have  been  a  human 
mother  if  she  had  not  wanted  to  keep  Edyth's 
thirty  thousand  dollars  a  year  in  the  family  ; 
if  she  had  not  gently  discouraged  any  other 
man  who  came  Edyth's  way.  Not  that  that 
required  much  effort.  The  American  man  is 
not  a  fortune  hunter.  He  has  too  much  faith 
in  his  own  abilities,  is  too  proud  to  take  a 
wife's  money.  He  considers  it  his  prerogative 
as  an  American  to  earn  his  own  fortune  and 
to  choose  the  one  woman  he  wants  out  of  the 
world  to  bestow  it  upon. 

Edyth,  with  her  rather  awkward  figure  and 
stiffness  of  manner,  had  little  to  attract  any 
man,  particularly  one  who  did  not  really  know 
her  good  qualities.  She  always  had  partners 
at  dances  and  never  had  known  the  ignominy 
of  being  a  wall  flower.  Everybody  went  to 
the  Courtney  house,  and  liked  Reginald,  and 
one  dance  is  little  to  give  for  duty ;  but  Edyth, 
with  the  handsomest  gown  in  the  room,  had 
never  been  a  belle. 


32  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

To  do  Reginald  justice,  he  never  thought 
of  Edyth's  money.  It  is  hard  to  think  of 
money  in  connection  with  one  for  whom  it 
has  done  so  little.  He  only  knew  that  she 
was  good,  that  she  was  devoted  to  him,  that 
his  mother  would  be  heartbroken  if  he  mar 
ried  any  one  else,  and  that  he  had  never  seen 
any  other  woman  whom  he  cared  any  more 
for. 

Not  that  bright  eyes  and  a  pretty  face  had 
no  charms  for  him.  He  was  a  young  man 
with  blood  in  his  veins,  and  eyes  in  his  head, 
and  when  a  gay,  bright  young  girl,  full  of  the 
joy  of  life,  passed  him  by,  his  heart  gave  an 
extra  throb  in  the  manner  that  every  healthy 
young  man's  does  at  that  call.  But  the  only 
girls  he  had  ever  known  were  those  about  his 
own  home,  and  in  their  eyes,  as  in  his 
mother's,  he  was  the  property  of  Edyth 
Smith. 

Tell  a  man  a  thing  is  a  fact  from  his  boy 
hood  up,  and  he  is  certain  to  end  by  believ 
ing  it. 

Reg   thought   he  loved    Edyth.      He   had 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  33 

never  known  a  man  who  was  passionately  in 
love  with  his  wife.  The  uncles  and  cousins, 
more  or  less  removed,  who  made  up  the  world 
about  Ellenbro'  all  had  wives  very  much  like 
Edyth,  good  and  commonplace.  It  was  hardly 
in  good  taste  to  be  anything  else.  And  upon 
this  frame  of  mind  was  destined  to  be  embroid 
ered  the  acquaintance  of  Mary  Baylor. 

Reg  and  Bdyth  walked  along  up  the  board 
walk  side  by  side.  The  merry  go  rounds 
were  grinding  out  their  new  tunes  put  in  for 
this  season,  but  only  a  stray  boy  and  girl  were 
seated  upon  the  splendid  and  ferocious  wooden 
tigers  and  lions,  going  round  and  round. 
Away  out  at  sea  the  red  cap  of  the  swimmer 
they  had  seen  go  in,  rose  and  fell  on  the 
waves.  There  was  a  memory  of  her  poetry  of 
motion  in  Reginald's  mind. 

"  Forty ! "  he  said  to  himself  contemptuously. 
"Mrs.  Stanley  or  no  Mrs.  Stanley,  if  that 
woman  is  forty,  I'm  seventy  five." 

Edyth  broke  into  his  reveries. 

"  Here's  the  iron  pier.  Let  us  walk  out  and 
look  at  the  ocean." 


34  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"All  right,"  is  Reginald's  invariable  an 
swer,  and  they  turn  to  the  right  and  walk  out 
on  the  high  pier.  There  is  a  small  theater 
at  the  other  end,  but  there  is  nobody  there  at 
this  hour  of  the  day.  The  rows  of  chairs  sit 
empty  like  a  wooden  audience,  waiting  for 
performers  that  do  not  come. 

There  are  some  young  girls  who  are  made 
prettier  by  the  fresh  air  of  the  ocean  and  the 
sunshine.  The  wind  ruffles  their  hair  in  crisp 
little  curls  around  foreheads  and  necks  and 
ears,  and  gives  their  hats  a  saucy  tilt  that  is 
the  acme  of  coquetry.  It  brings  deeper  color 
into  rounded  cheeks,  and  prints  a  dear  little 
brown  freckle  here  and  there  on  a  white  skin. 

But  Edyth  is  not  one  of  these.  The  wind 
makes  her  look  untidy,  and  that  is  all.  The 
extra  color  that  comes  is  in  her  nose  and  chin. 
Her  lips  look  blue  and  her  eyes  are  watery 
instead  of  laughing  back  to  the  sun.  Reginald 
considerately  suggests  that  they  should  get 
behind  the  theater  where  the  wind  is  not  so 
strong,  and  Edyth  sits  down  on  one  of  the  red 
wooden  seats. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  35 

Away  off  on  the  board  walk  a  popular  ditty 
plays  an  accompaniment.  Now,  thinks  Regi 
nald,  he  will  say  the  necessary  words. 

He  looks  out  at  the  little  boats  which  are 
bluefishing  outside  the  bar,  the  sun  making 
their  dingy  sails  white ;  he  gives  ear  to  the 
music ;  he  turns  his  eyes  to  Edyth's  face,  and 
some  way  his  courage  dies. 

"  How  big  the  world  is,  and  yet  how  little," 
says  Miss  Smith.  "  To  think  of  Uncle  Mason 
seeing  Mr.  Baylor  here.  I  hope  we  can  get  a 
subscription  for  the  hospital  from  him. 
Shouldn't  you  think  so?" 

Reg  isn't  exactly  interested  in  hospitals  ; 
like  most  young  men,  he  thinks  of  the  plea 
sant  things  of  life,  but  he  has  a  tenderness  for 
Edyth's  kind  heart.  The  hospital  is  her  pet 
charity,  and  the  mention  of  it  makes  him  think 
how  womanly  she  is,  and  what  a  good  wife  she 
will  make. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  want  to  go  rushing  after 
him  now  to  get  his  name  down  on  your  little 
book." 

"  No,  not  now,"  she  says.      "  I  want  to  go 


36  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

on  to  New  York  with  Aunt  Martha  and  get 
some  new  gowns  before  we  go  back  home,  and 
some  new  curtains  for  my  own  room." 

"  You  love  the  old  house  at  home  very 
much,  don't  you,  Edyth  ?  "  There  is  nothing 
remarkable  about  this  question,  but  there  is 
something  strained  in  the  tone  in  which  it  is 
put. 

She  looks  at  him,  and  knows  that  the  time 
has  come,  and  the  slow  red,  not  the  vivid 
rushing  blush  that  is  so  beautiful,  conies  into 
her  face. 

This  moment  is  the  most  blissful  of  her 
dull  life — this  moment  that  it  seems  to  Reg 
is  about  the  most  difficult  he  has  ever  en 
countered. 

"  Yes,"  she  almost  whispers. 

"  Wouldn't  you — wouldn't  you  like  to  live 
there  always  f  " 

It  is  like  pulling  a  tooth. 

"  You  know  I  should  be  unhappy  away  from 
you— all." 

And  then,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  more 
to  be  said.  He  puts  his  arm  around  her  shoul- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  37 

ders  and  kisses  her — and  is  conscious  as  he 
does  so  that  a  hair  has  blown  across  her 
lips,  and  he  doesn't  like  it.  He  doesn't 
even  know,  poor  boy,  that  if  that  hair  had 
been  blown  across  the  lips  of  a  woman  he  truly 
loved,  and  had  crossed  his  when  he  kissed  her 
first,  it  would  have  had  a  locket  home  for  the 
rest  of  its  days. 

There  seems  to  be  nothing  else  to  say.  They 
both  look  out  over  the  sea. 

"  I  wonder  what  Aunt  Martha  will  say  when 
we  go  in?" 

"Must  I  tell  her  now — right  off?"  asks 
Reg.  Now  that  it  is  done,  somehow  it  seems 
as  though  it  would  keep. 

"  Of  course  it  is  yours  to  tell,"  she  says  with 
an  attempt  at  playfulness  that  is  unlike  her 
and  not  desirable. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do,"  Reg  said  with 
an  air  of  inspiration.  "  Let's  go  into  that 
bath  house  and  get  some  suits  and  go  in 
bathing." 

Why  not  begin  right  now  to  start  Edyth  in 
his  ways  ? 


IV. 

T  T  must  be  confessed  that  the  bathing  suit 
which  covers  the  slender  figure  of  Miss 
Edyth  Smith  leaves  considerable  to  be  desired. 
It  isn't  pretty  and  it  isn't  trig. 

She  opens  the  door  a  little  way  and  peeps 
out,  and  then  looks  longingly  at  her  gown 
hanging  up  there.  A  boy  suddenly  bangs  at 
her  door. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  asks  timidly. 

"  The  gen'leman  said  you  was  to  come 
along.  He's  waitin'." 

And  then  Edyth  brought  out  all  of  her 
courage,  opened  the  door  and  stepped  out. 

As  they  came  down  on  the  beach  they  saw 
that  everybody  was  looking  at  a  child  who  was 
frolicking  in  the  water.  She  was  a  tiny  little 
yellow  headed  baby,  not  more  than  three,  but 
who  could  swim  like  a  fish.  There  was  a  heavy 
faced  woman  with  her  who  was  evidently  her 
38 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  39 

nurse,  and  who  was  bursting  with  gratified 
vanity  at  the  attention  the  baby  was  attracting. 
The  child  had  a  scrap  of  a  bathing  suit  about 
its  round  little  body,  but  she  sprang  into  the 
incoming  waves  shouting  with  glee,  putting 
her  tiny  hands  upon  her  waist  and  rising  above 
the  breakers  as  it  sprang  into  the  flying  spray. 

"  She  springs  up  like  Mrs.  Stanley  ;  look  at 
her,"  Edyth  cried,  forgetting  all  about  herself. 

The  child  threw  herself  upon  the  next  wave 
that  came  in,  and  put  out  her  tiny  arms  and 
went  swimming  like  a  white,  golden  haired 
frog. 

"  I  think  that  is  dangerous,"  Reg  said.  "I 
do  not  believe  that  nurse  can  swim  a  stroke, 
and  that  baby  has  not  the  strength  to  cope 
with  waves,"  and  taking  Edyth  by  the  hand 
he  started  into  the  water.  But  the  water  was 
cold  to  Miss  Smith's  feet,  and  she  stopped. 

"  Oh,  Reginald,  I  cartt !     Oh  !  " 

"  Yes,  you  can.  Look  at  all  these  people. 
It  isn't  cold  after  you  get  in.  Come  along." 

"Oh!     Ugh!     I  cannot/" 

People  about  them  were  beginning  to  laugh. 


40  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Reg  was  a  sturdy  soul,  without  a  grain  of 
snobbery,  but  as  he  looked  at  Edyth  he  did 
wish  she  were  prettier,  if  she  were  going  to  be 
silly,  or  more  sensible  and  braver  if  she  had  to 
be  ugly.  He  put  his  arms  about  her  waist 
and  rushed  her  into  the  incoming  breaker, 
lifting  her  head  and  shoulders  above  it. 

"  Oh — ah  !  "  she  gasped,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Then  1  am  afraid  Reg  felt  his  patience 

going.  "  If  you  really  cannot  stand  it "  he 

said  in  the  superhumanly  mild  tone  of  a  man 
in  a  real  rage — but  the  waves  do  not  wait  for 
arguments  ;  another  one  came,  and  they  let 
themselves  be  washed  nearly  back  upon  the 
beach. 

There  was  a  shriek  almost  in  Reg's  ear  : 
"  The  baby  !  Oh,  the  baby  !  " 

It  was  the  Irish  nurse.  She  was  wringing 
her  hands.  "  Save  her  !  "  she  cried. 

There  were  not  many  bathers  in  here,  only 
one  or  two  men. 

Reg  turned  to  see  the  little  golden  head 
away  out  on  the  top  of  a  wave.  Coming  to 
wards  the  shore  still  a  distance  out,  was  the 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  41 

red  cap  of  the  swimmer  they  had  seen  go  in 
far  up  the  beach.  It  was  coming  in  rapidly, 
but  that  baby  could  never  live  in  those  waves 
until  the  red  cap  could  reach  her.  Reg  fairly 
rushed  into  the  water,  leaving  Edyth  dripping 
on  the  shore.  It  was  not  hard  work  for  his 
strong  arms,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
would  never  reach  the  child  nor  find  her  when 
he  got  there.  The  fatal  undertow  would  make 
short  work  of  that  soft  atom. 

A  great  green  wall  came  up  before  him,  and 
in  it,  under  it,  he  saw  the  white  baby  face,  the 
little  arms  helpless.  He  dived,  grasped  the 
golden  curls,  and  came  up,  holding  himself 
aloft  on  the  sweep  of  the  incoming  tide,  the 
baby  in  his  arms. 

In  another  second  the  red  cap  was  beside 
him.  Such  an  agonized  face,  the  big  eyes 
wide.  "  My  baby,"  she  gasped. 

"  She's  all  right,"  Reg  said,  and  truly  enough 
she  was.  The  little  thing  had  held  her  breath 
under  the  water  and  breathed  on  top,  with  the 
true  instinct  of  a  born  swimmer,  who  had  been 
trained  to  the  water  before  she  could  walk. 


42  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"I  come  to  your  cap,  mamma,"  she  said, 
shaking  the  water  from  her  head  like  a  dog. 

It  was  no  time  for  talk.  The  gratitude  in 
the  mother's  eyes  was  more  eloquent  than  any 
words. 

Reg  put  the  child  astride  his  neck,  and 
together  he  and  the  mother  slowly  swam  in 
shore.  The  Irish  nurse  was  gone.  When 
they  reached  the  sand  and  put  the  child  down, 
the  mother  turned  to  Reg  with  tears  in  her 
pretty  eyes. 

"  You  saved  my  baby's  life,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  look  in  those  eyes  under  the 
red  cap  which  was  dangerous  for  Reg.  There 
are  some  women  born  with  a  something  (other 
women  call  it  coquetry  sometimes,  and  some 
times  they  call  it  brazenness)  which  is  fatal 
to  nine  men  out  of  every  ten  who  look  at  them. 

No  wonder  was  it  that  Mrs.  Stanley  was  the 
great  society  leader.  The  few  people  who 
had  been  along  the  beach  were  all  looking  at 
them  curiously.  Edyth  had  only  seen  and 
felt  that  Reg  had  left  her,  and  had  turned  and 
gone  up  the  beach  and  into  the  bath  house  to 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  43 

don  again  the  garments  of  her  everyday  walks, 
to  bedeck  herself  with  trinkets  and  be  the 
Edyth  of  conventionality — except — except — 
in  this  one  respect.  There  was  upon  her  a  new 
dignity.  She  was  engaged  to  Reg.  It  looked 
all  sunny  before  her  now  —  and  although 
she  was  cold,  and  the  coarse  flannel  of  the 
bathing  suit  was  unpleasant  to  her  skin,  and 
the  one  towel  was  insufficient,  still  none  of 
these  could  entirely  hide  the  sun  for  Edyth, 
on  this  the  day  when  the  fruition  of  all  her 
maidenly  dreams  had  come  about. 

She  even  laughed  at  herself  for  a  silly  goose 
for  having  cried  in  the  water.  She  would  go 
in  again  tomorrow.  Of  course  Reg  was  big 
enough  and  bold  enough  to  take  care  of  her, 
and  she  ought  not  to  be  so  stupid.  She  won 
dered  if  Reg  really  meant  that  they  were  to 
keep  their  engagement  for  a  month,  and  not 
tell  even  Mrs.  Courtney.  She  didn't  see  how 
she  could,  and  then  she  thrilled  all  over  at  the 
thought  of  having  a  great  secret  like  that, 
that  meant  so  much  to  them  both,  all  alone 
with  Reg. 


44  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

She  started  out  to  find  Reg.  She  thought 
of  sending  a  boy,  but  she  suddenly  bethought 
herself  that  Mr.  Reginald  Courtney  might  not 
be  so  conspicuous  a  personage  along  the  sands 
of  Atlantic  City  as  he  would  be  in  the  streets 
of  Ellenbro'.  The  sense  of  lost-  identity  is 
one  of  the  hardest  lessons  that  provincials 
must  learn.  She  set  her  hat,  her  most  expen 
sive  hat,  on  her  head,  and  taking  her  umbrella, 
went  out  and  sat  in  the  pavilion  which  over 
looked  the  bathers.  Just  as  she  appeared  a 
red  cap,  closely  followed  by  a  tall  young  man, 
crossed  the  sands,  went  up  the  stairs,  and 
separating  with  a  tacit  promise  in  each  face  to 
meet  again  in  a  very  few  minutes,  the  two 
went  into  their  several  dressing  rooms. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  gallant  about 
Reginald  Courtney,  but  when  that  merry 
piquant  face  under  the  red  cap  was  turned  to 
him,  he  forgot  that  she  was  a  stranger. 

"  Must  you  go  out  ? "  he  said.  It  wasn't 
every  day  that  a  swknmer  like  this  could  keep 
stroke  beside  him. 

"  The  nurse  has  gone,  and  I  must  go  and 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  45 

dress  the  baby.  She  has  been  in  too  long 
now.  Poor  little  tot !  I  never  intended  for 
her  to  come  into  the  water  at  all  this  morning. 
I  have  never  had  a  nurse  for  her  in  all  her 
little  life  before,  but  her  papa  thinks  she  ought 
to  have  one  so  that  we  may  have  more  time 
for  other  things.  Just  as  though  anything 
could  be  more  important  than  having  the  baby 
with  us  !  " 

"  Me  won't  go  out ! "  said  a  small  but  defiant 
voice. 

"  Sh — h.  Don't  speak  to  your  mamma  like 
that !  "  There  was  anything  but  severity  in 
the  soft  tones,  but  the  baby  changed  her  cry. 

"  I  see  my  papa  !  "  she  shrieked,  and  break 
ing  away  from  her  mother,  tore  through  the 
crowd,  a  little  bundle  of  pink  flesh,  wet  flannel, 
and  stringy  curls. 

Reg  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  thanks  of  the 
head  of  the  family ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  that 
was  a  formality  that  he  could  deny  him 
self.  With  a  hasty  word  of  farewell,  he 
started  up  towards  the  place  where  he  had  left 
Edyth.  She  was  gone.  He  went  up  to  the 


46  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

bath  house,  and  found  that  she  had  taken  the 
key  of  her  dressing  room.  Reg  knew  from 
many  years'  experience  that  when  Edyth  be 
gan  to  dress,  it  was  a  matter  of  labor  and 
painstaking,  and  time.  He  looked  longingly 
back  at  the  glittering,  heaving  waves,  rushing 
in  so  coolly  and  enticingly.  Did  his  eyes  de 
ceive  him  ?  Away  out  there  on  the  crest  of 
one  of  them  was  a  red  cap.  That  decided 
him.  In  another  minute  his  strong  white 
arms  and  close  cropped  head  were  making  their 
way  through  the  breakers  towards  that  scarlet 
beacon. 

"  I'll  tell  her  this  time,"  Reg  thinks  to 
himself,  "  that  we  are  cousins.  I'll  talk  to 
her,  and  it  naturally  will  come  into  the  con 
versation." 

She  was  out  there  all  alone,  as  he  had  hoped, 
and  the  face  she  turned  towards  him  was  as 
cordial  and  gay  as  it  had  been  when  he  left  it. 
Some  way  it  made  Reg  into  a  hero.  It  made 
his  swim  to  the  rescue  of  that  small  girl,  and 
his  grasp  upon  her  curls,  seem  the  act  of  a 
great  man.  The  glance  in  those  eyes,  sweet 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  47 

as  it  was,  seemed  to  act  like  a  magnifier.  It 
made  Reg  swell  in  importance. 

"  Where  did  you  go  to?"  she  cried,  as  she 
threw  herself  upon  the  wave,  passively,  as 
another  woman  would  throw  herself  upon  a 
silken  couch  for  a  languid  summer  afternoon's 
rest.  Her  round  white  arms,  slender,  yet  with 
dimples  in  the  elbows,  and  a  dear  little  crease 
on  the  forearm  just  below  the  bend  that  en 
ticed  you  to  kiss  it,  were  spread  out,  and  the 
water  seemed  to  hold  her  up  and  support  her 
upon  its  heaving  green  bosom  as  though  it 
loved  her. 

"  I  went  up  to  see  what  had  become  of  my — 
my  cousin.  But  she  was  dressing." 

She  laughed.  "  And  you  knew  that  meant 
another  hour !  I  am  so  glad  you  came  back.  I 
wanted  you  to  stay  and  meet  my  husband. 
He  might  have  said  some  words  that  could 
have  given  you  some  idea  of  our  thanks.  I 
could  not." 

"  You  thanked  me  enough,"  Reg  said.  "  It 
was  nothing." 

"  Nothing,  to  save  my  baby's  life  ?     It  prob- 


48  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

ably  seemed  nothing  to  yon.  You  may  go 
abont  saving  lives  every  day  in  the  week,  for 
anght  I  know — but  my  baby  !  " 

The  words  sounded  a  little  flippant,  but 
there  was  a  ghost  of  a  sob  at  the  end,  and  the 
water  on  the  round  delicate  cheeks  was  not  all 
ocean's  brine.  It  thrilled  Reg  to  the  heart. 
He  never  stopped  to  think  how  cross  he  had 
been  to  Edyth  for  crying  just  a  little  while 
ago. 

"  Did  the  nurse  come  back  ?  "  he  asked — for 
something  to  say. 

"  Yes  ;  her  father  said  he  would  stay  with 
her  while  the  nurse  dressed  her.  She  seemed 
awfully  repentant,  poor  thing,  and  I  could 
hardly  blame  her."  She  laughed  again,  that 
merry  laugh  that  seemed  to  come  out  for  its 
own  enjoyment,  showing  all  the  white  teeth 
and  the  depressed  corners  of  the  not  very 
small  nor  thin  lipped  mouth.  "It  is  more 
than  I  can  do  to  resist  that  child's  pleading. 
How  can  I  expect  a  nurse  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  Reg  said,  and  then  he 
blushed.  It  seemed  to  him  that  anybody 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  49 

would  give  this  woman  anything  she  wanted, 
why  not  her  child  ? 

But  the  red  cap  had  other  occupation  than 
listening  to  the  flatteries  of  a  boy.  She  had 
come  out  to  bathe,  to  swim  and  dive,  and  feel 
the  cool  waves  break  over  her,  and  she  went 
vigorously  to  work,  untiring,  seemingly. 

When  at  last  they  came  out,  just  as  Edyth, 
her  hair  a  little  wet,  and  not  so  daintily 
arranged  as  before,  took  her  chair  in  the  pa 
vilion  and  turned  it  oceanward,  they  felt  that 
they  had  been  friends  forever.  There  was  an 
Irishwoman,  meek  of  mien,  holding  fast  to  a 
dancing,  golden  haired  little  girl,  very  near 
them. 

"  Your  mamma  has  come  out  now,  I'm 
tellin'  ye,"  said  the  nurse.  "  Didn't  ye  see 
her  red  cap  a-comin'  up  out  o'  the  water? 
She's  jest  in  the  house  beyant  a  dressin'  an' 
will  be  here  the  minute — an'  it's  glad  I  am," 
under  her  breath. 

Edyth  pricked  up  her  ears  at  the  mention 
of  the  red  cap.  She  had  seen  only  one,  and 
that  was  on  Mrs.  Stanley's  head.  Could  this 


50  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

be  Mrs.  Stanley's  little  girl  ?  She  turned  and 
smiled  upon  the  infant.  That  was  enough  ; 
in  two  minutes  her  bangle  bracelets  were 
being  closely  inspected. 

Edyth's  array  of  bangles  was  large.  There 
was  a  little  gold  pig,  a  porte  bonheur,  which 
set  the  child  screaming  with  delight.  "  The 
pid  !  the  pid  !  The  pitty  pid  !  " 

Just  then  a  lady,  in  a  simple,  cool  white 
gown  came  in  at  the  pavilion  gate.  Reg  was 
just  behind  her,  looking  red  and  fresh.  The 
baby  sprang  for  her.  "  Mamma,"  she  cried, 
"  come  and  see  the  lady  with  the  pid."  Edyth 
recognized  her  ;  it  was  Mrs.  Stanley. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  little  girl,"  she 
said  very  sweetly.  "  She  wants  everything 
she  sees.  I  am  afraid  she  is  frightfully 
spoiled." 

"Oh,  no!"  Edyth  said.  "Let  me  give  it 
to  her.  I  should  be  glad  for  her  to  have  it," 
and  she  began  unhooking  it  from  her  bracelet. 
There  is  a  hand  put  out  to  stop  her. 

"  I  cannot  allow  her "  but  the  air  is 

rent  by  a  shrill  wail. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  51 

"  I  wants  th'  pid  !  " 

"  Please  let  her  have  it,"  Edyth  says  almost 
imploringly.  "  It  isn't  like  taking  it  from  a 
stranger.  I  fancy  we  are  almost  cousins," 
hurrying  on,  as  she  sees  the  wonder  in  the 
face  before  her.  Reg  has  come  up,  and  Edyth 
turns  toward  him  to  second  her.  "  We  are 
the  Courtney s  from  Ellenbro'."  She  always 
speaks  of  herself  as  a  Courtney. 

"  Ah  !  "  and  a  pleased  flush  came  into  the 
face  under  the  red  cap.  "  Do  you  know  me 
then  ?  " 

Coming  toward  them  Edyth  sees  Mrs.  Court 
ney,  and  knows  from  her  face  that  she,  too, 
sees  Mrs.  Stanley. 

"  Why,  of  course,  Aunt  Martha  knew  you 
at  once,  and  said  we  must  come  and  see  you." 

"  I  will  tell  Dick."  There  is  a  little  triumph 
in  the  tone.  "  You  might  have  recognized 
him,  but  I  cannot  understand  how  you  could 
know  that  I  am  Mrs.  Richard  Baylor ! " 


V. 

A  YOUNG  girl  brought  up  in  the  country 
often  acquires  a  self  possession  that  a 
city  girl  of  the  same  age  totally  lacks.  There 
is  a  coming  and  going  among  the  old  families 
who  have  many  branches  which  gives  a 
daughter  of  a  large  connection  an  ease  and 
tact  in  dealing  with  people  of  all  sorts,  a  readi 
ness,  which  the  city  girl,  who  has  depended 
on  her  mother  for  everything,  rarely  has  until 
she  is  fairly  launched  into  the  world  upon  her 
own  account,  when  the  very  goddesses  would 
stand  abashed  at  her  uplifted  head  and  grand 
carriage.  All  the  experience  had  come  to 
Edyth,  but  her  nature  had  been  unfruitful 
ground.  She  had  profited  by  none  of  it.  As 
she  looks  at  Mary  and  realizes  the  awful  mis 
take  she  has  made,  she  would  gladly  seek  the 
watery  depths  of  one  of  the  great  waves,  and 
come  up  oblivious  to  her  surroundings. 
52 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  53 

Mary  reads  with  unerring  instinct  the 
change  in  Edyth's  expression,  and  after  the 
first  sharp  little  scratch  of  mortification  she 
rather  enjoys  the  situation. 

"Oh,  yes!"  Edyth  falters,  "  I— we — Aunt 
Martha  knows  Miss  Eliza  Baylor  very  well. 
I  think — Reg,  I  am  sure  aunt  is  looking  for 
us — I  see  her  coming,"  and  Edyth  half  turns. 
But  Reg  has  brought  a  chair  out  with  some 
thing  of  a  bang,  and  has  plainly  made  up  his 
mind  to  seat  himself  and  stay  where  he  is. 
Edyth  may  defy  some  things,  but,  unassisted, 
she  cannot  defy  that  expression  in  the  face  of 
the  man  who  is  her  lord  and  master. 

In  spite  of  herself  she  sits  down.  Mary 
spreads  her  crisp  white  skirt  and  looks  her 
blandly  and  smilingly  in  the  face.  Nearer 
and  nearer  comes  Mrs.  Courtney,  and  while 
Mary's  smile  may  be  bland,  Mrs.  Courtney's  is 
positively  buttery.  Her  feeling  at  seeing 
Edyth  and  Reginald  there  by  the  side  of  Mrs. 
Stanley  is  one  of  genuine  gratification. 

Mrs.  Stanley  is  a  woman  who  is  always 
mentioned  with  pride  by  the  Southern  people, 


54  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

who  jealously  guard  the  traditions  of  their 
section.  She  has  married  a  rich  man  of  social 
standing,  and  being  gay  and  good  natured  and 
popular,  has  made  much  of  her  position,  and 
is  one  of  the  women  whose  name  and  photo 
graph  (or  rather  the  caricature  which  is  called 
a  newspaper  photograph)  are  constantly  appear 
ing  in  print.  She  has  had  years  of  attention, 
and  the  novelty  having  worn  off  to  some  ex 
tent,  she  seeks  few  of  her  compatriots.  While 
the  world  of  the  Northern  cities — her  social 
world — has  year  by  year  taken  on  new  ways 
of  amusing  itself,  has  been  growing  lighter 
and  lighter  in  tone,  has  ceased  to  contemplate 
itself  too  closely,  and  has  gone  far  afield  for 
some  of  its  diversions,  the  class  from  which 
she  came  in  the  South  still  holds  many  of  the 
traditions  of  an  earlier  time.  They  may  be 
amusing  enough  to  look  at  from  a  distance,  but 
to  live  with  them  even  for  a  day  tries  Airs. 
Stanley's  patience. 

Mrs.  Courtney  understands  none  of  this. 
Her  comprehension  is  limited  to  the  fact  that 
few  people  she  knows  ever  see  anything  of 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  55 

Mrs.  Stanley.  The  opportunity  has  come  to 
her.  She  almost  hears  herself  telling  her  old 
friends  at  home  all  about  it. 

Edyth  is  dyed  crimson  with  mortification, 
and  feels  a  dreadful  temptation  to  hold  her 
tongue,  even  as  Mrs.  Courtney 's  expansive 
person  turns  in  through  the  narrow  door  of  the 
pavilion  and  comes  sweeping  toward  them. 
She  feels  her  own  utter  incapacity  to  shape 
events,  and  the  cowardice  which  takes  refuge 
in  silence  possesses  her. 

Mrs.  Courtney's  smile  is  so  effusive,  so 
motherly,  that  Edyth  arises  and  tries  to  give 
her  some  sort  of  a  hint.  She  says : 

"  Oh,  here  is  Aunt  Martha  !  She  has  come 
for  us,"  and  she  starts  toward  Mrs.  Courtney 
to  arrest  her  in  midair  as  it  were.  But  Mrs. 
Courtney  is  too  heavy  a  projectile  for  any  such 
frivolous  turning  aside. 

"  Such  a  pleasure  to  meet  you  here,"  she 
says,  advancing  upon  Mary  with  outstretched 
hand.  "  It  is  so  seldom  any  of  us  find  any  of 
our  own  people  in  the  North.  I  am  delighted 
that  the  children  discovered  you." 


56  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  am  covered  with  gratitude  that  they 
found  me,  too,"  Mary  says.  "  I  feel  like 
thanking  you  for  having  a  son.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  him  I  am  afraid  I  should  not  have 
had  a  daughter  today,"  and  she  hugged  the 
little  girl  up  in  her  strong  arms. 

Mrs.  Courtney  looked  questioningly  at 
Reg,  and  he  looked  out  at  sea  as  though  he 
were  not  at  all  interested  in  the  conversation. 

"  He  saved  my  baby's  life." 

"  I  am  sure  he  did  a  good  deed  for  the 
world.  Such  a  beautiful  child  ! "  Mrs. 
Courtney  sits  down  and  puts  out  her  tightly 
gloved  hand  coaxingly  towards  the  spoiled 
Dolly. 

"  Go  'way  !  "  says  that  piece  of  tactless  im 
pertinence. 

"  How  much  she  looks  like  her  grandmother 
Lacy !  Such  a  beautiful  woman  that  she 
was  !  You  must  get  the  general  to  tell  you 
of  the  famous  old  tales  they  tell  of  her.  How 
she  was  the  toast  of  the  county.  Your  little 
girl  bids  fair  to  be  just  such  another  great 
beauty." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  57 

There  is  first  a  puzzled  look,  and  then  art 
less  Mary  begins  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Courtney 
means  to  be  kind.  She  is  the  mother  of  this 
splendid  young  man  ;  he  must  have  taken  his 
nature  from  her. 

"  I  never  heard,"  she  says,  "  of  Dolly's 
grandmother  Lacy.  Richard  has  not  told  me 
much  of  the  family.  I  am  glad  Dolly  is 
going  to  have  an  inheritance  of  beauty.  I 
have  always  thought  it  must  be  behind  her 
somewhere.'1'1  Mary  laughs  as  if  in  depreca 
tion  of  her  own  charms. 

"  Not  know "  Mrs.  Courtney  wonders  if 

Helen  Stanley  has  even  forgotten  her  own 
mother. 

Bdyth  rushes  in.  "  It  is  all  my  fault,  Aunt 
Martha.  You  did  not  understand.  This  is — 
is — Mrs.  Richard  Baylor." 

The  dull  red  of  extreme  embarrassment 
takes  the  field  of  Mrs.  Courtney's  cheeks. 

"  I  cannot  see  where  your  fault  comes  in, 
Edyth,"  Reginald  says.  "  It  seems  to  me  a 
very  fortunate  thing  for  all  of  us  to  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Baylor  here  and  now. 


5«  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

I  am  sure  I  am  everlastingly  grateful  to  little 
Dolly  for  getting  out  of  her  depth." 

Mrs.  Courtney  rises,  and  as  she  lifts  her 
hand,  it  acts  as  a  signal  for  Edy th,  who  follows 
her. 

"  I  really  must  beg  your  pardon,  madam, 
for  my  most  unfortunate  mistake.  Through 
some  inadvertence  the  children  seem  to  have 
mistaken  you  for  a  relative  of  our  own."  Mrs. 
Courtney  looks  at  Mary  slightingly,  as  though 
she  could  never  have  made  any  such  mistake. 
"  Come,  my  dear."  She  puts  her  hand  in 
Edyth's  arm  and  draws  her  gently  away. 

Poor  Mary  !  Slights  have  not  come  much 
in  her  way  in  the  course  of  her  young  life, 
spent  among  her  own  sort.  The  little  flat  has 
been  her  kingdom  since  she  was  married,  and 
before  that,  why,  the  wide  world — her  world 
seemed  to  be  hers.  With  the  instinct  of  any 
hurt  creature  seeking  help,  she  turns  and 
looks  at  Reginald.  Men  never  had  deserted 
her.  Would  this  one  ?  Her  look  was  potent. 

It  was  this  that  had  cut  Mary  Baylor  out  for 
the  stage  all  those  years  ago  ;  it  was  this  that 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  59 

had  made  old  Marshall,  the  manager,  vow  she 
should  have  a  theater  and  a  play  of  her  very 
own  to  play  in.  It  was  this  that  night  when 
they  were  having  a  dress  rehearsal — how  long 
ago  it  all  seemed — which  went  straight  through 
the  blase  veneer  which  enwrapped  Richard 
Baylor,  cynical,  man  of  the  world  Dick  Baylor, 
and  pierced  his  heart.  It  was  this  not  to  be 
understood  something  which  had  kept  him 
dangling  at  the  heels  of  a  chit  of  a  girl  who 
hadn't  even  made  her  debut ;  that  kept  him 
buying  flowers  and  candy  where  he  had  once 
bought  champagne.  It  was  this  that  called 
him  back  after  he  had  been  driven  away  from 
the  young  actress,  by  her  sharp  refusal  of  any 
more  of  his  attentions.  It  was  this  that  had 
made  him  do  a  thing  he  had  never  expected 
to  do  in  all  his  life — ask  this  young  girl  to 
marry  him. 

Dozens  had  gone  down  under  it  since,  com 
ing  up  to  it  conscious  of  its  power.  To  poor 
country  bred  Reg  a  look  like  this  was  like  fire 
to  the  traditional  tow.  His  heart  went  like  a 
trip  hammer.  Edyth,  his  recent  vows,  mother, 


60  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

everything  were  forgotten  in  the  rush  that  went 
over  him  with  that  look. 

Reginald  is  alone  with  Mrs.  Baylor.  He  is 
as  heartily  ashamed  of  his  family  as  it  is  pos 
sible  for  a  man  to  be.  With  all  the  American 
hatred  of  snobbery  in  any  form,  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  youth  aroused  in  behalf  of  a 
woman  who  seems  to  be  a  special  point  of 
attack  for  her  own  sex,  Reg  is  a  champion 
whom  any  woman  might  be  glad  to  have 
enter  the  lists  for  her.  It  is  a  tactless  and 
shortsighted  mother  and  sweetheart  who  have 
forced  him  into  taking  this  position. 

He  cannot  apologize  for  them.  He  can 
only  show  his  own  feeling  ;  and  Reg  is  not 
the  man  to  do  anything  by  halves.  Now  he 
seats  himself  by  Mrs.  Baylor  with  the  air  of 
an  old  friend.  He  isn't  sure  that  he  does  not 
feel  easier  with  her  when  he  knows  that  she 
is  Mrs.  Baylor  than  he  did  while  he  thought 
her  Mrs.  Stanley.  It  is  a  sad  fact  that  when 
a  natural  man — a  man  who  isn't  a  prig — finds 
himself  in  Bohemian  environment,  he  feels 
happy. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  6 1 

They  ignore  the  incident  that  has  just 
passed.  There  is  no  trace  of  it,  except  per 
haps  in  an  added  warmth  in  the  manner  of 
both.  Mary  wishes  to  show  Reg  her  grati 
tude,  and  Reg  wishes  to  bring  out  his  own 
independence  and  the  admiration  he  really 
feels  for  the  little  woman.  He  sits  and  talks 
to  her  for  an  hour,  and  then  when  she  starts 
home  he  goes  with  her.  Mrs.  Courtney  and 
Edyth  are  sitting  out  on  their  hotel  veranda. 
Mrs.  Courtney  slowly  waves  a  big  black 
feather  fan  in  the  ocean  breeze.  It  is  so  cool 
that  it  is  hardly  necessary,  but  the  long  plumes 
seem  to  give  a  funereal  dignity  to  her  whole 
expression.  Her  gown  is  heavily  jetted,  and 
the  squeak  of  the  tight  silk  and  the  rattle  of 
the  bugles  make  one  think  of  trappings  and 
harness. 

Edyth  has  had  time  to  make  some  changes 
in  her  own  dress.  There  were  so  few  really 
good  opportunities  for  dressing  in  Ellenbro' 
that  they  missed  no  chance  to  put  on  fresh 
adorning  here.  As  Edyth  stood  before  her 
mirror  she  had  dabbed  away  a  suspicion  of  a 


62  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

tear,  and  covered  up  the  telltale  red  mark  with 
a  rub  of  powder.  She  had  a  lonely  feeling, 
although  her  engagement  was  not  two  hours 
old.  As  she  sits  there  on  the  veranda,  she 
sees  Reg,  surely  her  own  Reg,  coming  saun 
tering,  not  walking  along  as  though  he  had 
been  pressed  into  service  and  was  only  doing 
a  duty  toward  an  acquaintance,  but  leaning 
down,  interested,  forgetting  everything  except 
the  sight  of  his  companion's  face — and  that 
companion  was  Mrs.  Baylor. 

Mrs.  Courtney  waved  her  fan  more  majes 
tically  than  ever. 

"My  dear  Edyth,"she  said,  "  I  hope  you  see 
now  why  I  so  abruptly  declined  any  acquaint 
ance  with  Mrs.  Baylor  whatsoever.  There  is 
given  to  some  women  an  evil  influence  which 
this  one  appears  to  possess.  I  thank  heaven 
that  7  was  never  such  a  one  ! " 

Young  Mr.  Courtney  was  being  admirably 
entertained.  Mary  had  never  seen  any  reason 
on  earth  why  she  should  not  make  herself  as 
agreeable  as  possible  to  every  one  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact.  She  was  like  the  mirror 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  63 

which  gives  back  smiles  for  smiles,  and  her 
smile  was  always  ready. 

When  it  was  there  exactly  before  Reg,  with 
all  its  beauty  and  bloom  and  attraction  for 
him,  he  was  quite  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  his 
mother  and  sweetheart  were  watching  all  his 
ways  from  the  hotel  veranda.  Indeed,  he 
never  knew  when  he  passed  them. 

Mary  is  telling  him  all  sorts  of  incidents, 
called  up  by  people  who  have  passed  them — 
when  suddenly  she  makes  a  little  dive  and 
touches  on  the  arm  a  very  foreign  looking  man 
with  black  eyes.  He  is  dressed  very  correctly, 
and  his  hair — thin  to  be  sure — is  accurately 
parted  in  the  center,  and  brushed  down  before 
his  ears,  in  the  true  fashion  of  the  boulevardier 
of  the  last  decade.  He  isn't  young  in  years — 
but  no  decay  has  begim  to  show  in  his  spirit. 

"  Such  luck ! "  cried  Mary,  with  what  seems 
to  Reg  a  disproportionate  amount  of  gladness 
in  her  voice.  "  I  knew  you  couldn't  stay  away 
from  us  for  any  length  of  time." 

"  Where  is  my  young  sweetheart,  my  lady 
love?" 


64  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"Dolly?  Oh,  she  is "  Mary  turns. 

"  I  though  she  was  following  us  with  her  nurse, 
but  it  seems  she  isn't.  I  suppose  she  has 
picked  up  her  papa  somewhere.  Where  did 

you I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Courtney  ; 

I  must  introduce  you  to  almost  my  very  oldest 
friend,  Mr.  Poncet,  our  next  door  neighbor  in 
New  York.  My  dear  little  home  in  New 
York  !  I  hope  you  are  treating  it  well  ?  " 

"  But  it  is  disconsolate  without  you." 

An  expression  of  real  sadness  came  over 
Mary's  face. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Courtney,"  she  said, 
"  that  when  it  came  to  tearing  up  my  little 
apartment  in  New  York  I  simply  could  not 
do  it.  It  was  our  little  home.  I  felt  that  it 
must  stay  there  for  us  to  go  back  to.  Of  course 
it  was  a  piece  of  great  extravagance  to  go  on 
paying  the  rent  when  we  were  not  going  to 
live  there,  but  my  husband  humored  me.  I 
suppose  I  shall  get  over  it  presently  when 
Ellenbro'  gets  to  be  my  home,  and  I  can 
stand  it  to  have  the  things  brought  down  a 
few  at  a  time — and  then  some  day  I  suppose 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  65 

the  little  nest  we  made  there  will  be  like  the 
bedroom  I  had  when  I  was  a  girl :  something 
to  remember,  but  not  regret." 

"  Madame  is  very  prettily  sentimental,"  old 
Poncet  said  with  his  best  air. 

"  Where  are  you  staying?  "  Mary  asks. 

"  At  the  Mangate,  the  large  hotel.  It  is 
the  only  one.  The  only  one  where  you  can 
get  a  respectable  dinner  at  six  or  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  At  the  others  they  expect  you 
to  dine  at  two,"  and  there  is  scorn  on  the  coun 
tenance  of  Mr.  Poncet.  "  Where  are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  are  at  some  rooms  about  here  that 
one  of  our  friends  told  us  of  last  year.  We 
go  out  for  our  dinner.  Sometimes  here — 
sometimes  there — like  the  pair  of  Bohemians 
we  are,  but  Dick  said  this  morning  he  believed 
he  would  go  to  a  hotel.  We  have  no  parlor, 
and  now  that  we  have  some  friends  here  " — 
her  smile  included  them  both — "  we  shall  want 
a  spot  where  we  can  entertain  them.  The 
Windermere,  for  instance.  Where  are  you, 
Mr.  Courtney?" 

"  We  are  staying  there." 


66  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Are  you  ?     Isn't  that  jolly  !  " 

"  They  are  going  to  have  a  dance  there  to 
night,"  Mr.  Poncet  says  casually.  "  And  I 
shall  of  course  expect  the  honor." 

"Which  you  shall  certainly  have.  Oh,  I 
think  we  shall  come  over  there  ourselves.  I'll 
ask  Dick  about  it  as  soon  as  he  comes  in. 
Here  I  am  at  home."  She  holds  out  her  two 
pretty  hands,  one  to  each  of  the  men.  They 
are  ungloved,  and  the  action  is  by  no  means 
conventional,  but  nobody  thinks  of  that.  Then 
she  gaily  nods,  and  gives  a  backward  look  to 
Reg.  "  I'll  expect  to  have  a  dance  with  you 
tonight,  too,  Mr.  Courtney,"  and  Reg  lifts  his 
hat  and  answers  that  he  will  think  of  nothing 
else  all  day.  He  is  nearer  telling  the  truth 
than  most  people  are  who  make  a  gallant 
remark. 

He  leaves  Mr.  Poncet,  he  hardly  knows 
how.  He  has  a  vague  idea  afterwards  that 
the  other  must  have  seen  the  nurse  coming 
with  Dolly  and  gone  up  to  meet  them.  Any 
way,  he  finds  himself  strolling  back  towards 
the  hotel  with  his  consciousness  full  of  Mrs. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  67 

Baylor  and  that  light  sense  of  well  being  which 
comes  to  us  when  we  have  the  anticipation  of 
happy  hours. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  little  chill  in  his  happi 
ness.  He  wonders  if  Edyth  is  thinking  of 
going  to  that  dance.  Edyth  rather  enjoys 
dancing,  and  Reg  has  a  remembrance  that 
when  they  go  together  she  is  seldom  taken  off 
his  hands  for  long  at  a  time.  Edyth  isn't  one 
of  the  girls  who  charms  a  man  into  forgetting 
that  time  flies  and  probably  other  men  want 
to  dance  with  her.  A  little  of  the  stubborn 
look  which  his  mother  knows  so  well  comes 
into  Reg's  face.  Why  is  he  engaged  to  Edyth 
any  way  ?  Is  he  ?  Then  every  bit  of  manli 
ness  there  is  in  the  boy  comes  out,  and  he  re 
members  tenderly  Edyth's  love  for  him,  and 
how  good  and  true  a  girl  she  is,  and  he  tells 
himself  that  he  is  an  ungrateful  brute  and 
that  he  loves  her  and  is  proud  and  glad  that 
they  are  going  to  be  married  ;  but — he  does 
hope  that  she  will  not  want  to  go  to  the  dance. 

After  all  Reginald  is  himself.  Why,  because 
a  man  is  engaged,  must  he  be  tied  to  one 


68  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

woman's  apron  string?  It  is  all  because  they 
had  lived  down  in  that  little  country  town  and 
have  known  nothing  of  the  world  and  its  ways, 
that  a  man  is  socially  dead  and  buried  when 
he  is  married.  He  remembers  Madame  Bona 
parte's  scornful  description  of  Baltimore 
society,  that  "  men  only  went  into  it  to  seek 
a  wife." 

Reg  goes  home  and  into  his  own  room, 
where  he  throws  off  his  coat  and  lies  down  to  a 
cigar  and  a  novel.  He  is  an  active  young 
fellow,  but  he  seems  to  have  enough  to  think 
about  to  supply  him  with  exercise.  His 
mother  comes  and  knocks  at  his  locked  door, 
but  he  lets  her  go  again  without  answering. 
He  wonders  if  Edyth  has  told  her,  and  he 
hopes  in  a  bored  sort  of  way  that  she  hasn't. 

At  dinner  time  he  dresses  himself  carefully. 
Reg  and  Edyth  sit  opposite  each  other.  The 
wind  and  sun  of  the  morning  have  left  more 
than  one  little  freckle  upon  her  face,  and  the 
pink  gown  she  has  put  on  by  no  means  tones 
down  the  color.  She  looks  hot  and  embar 
rassed. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  69 

Presently  a  lady  enters  with  four  gentle 
men  attending  her.  She  has  the  graceful 
walk  of  a  princess,  and  her  simple  white 
silk  gown  is  drawn  up  just  below  her  neck, 
showing  a  long  white  throat.  Mrs.  Courtney 
sees  her  as  she  enters,  and  turns  her  eyes 
stonily  in  another  direction.  General  Court 
ney  opens  his  mouth  to  speak,  as  he  sees  her, 
too,  but  one  look  at  his  wife's  face  is  enough. 
He  closes  it  upon  a  bit  of  bluefish  and  holds 
his  peace. 

He  thinks  that  Mrs.  Stanley  has  been  ap 
proached,  but  has  probably  not  shown  the 
proper  amount  of  alacrity  in  accepting  the 
ready  offers  of  friendship  of  her  distant  kin. 
He  isn't  so  very  sorry.  She  looks  nice — 
and  then  he  looks  again  and  sees  that  one 
of  the  men  with  her  is  Richard  Baylor,  and 
a  dim  dawning  of  the  truth  comes  to  the 
general,  and  he  is  more  devoted  than  ever 
to  his  fish.  Edyth  sees  them,  too,  but  they 
are  at  Reginald's  back,  and  he  goes  on  in 
blessed  unconsciousness  of  it  all. 

As  for  Mary,  she  feels  her  best.     Every  man 


70  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

in  the  room  in  the  range  of  whose  vision  she 
has  come  is  looking  at  her,  but  it  isn't  that 
which  causes  Mary's  spirits  to  rise.  That  is 
an  old  story  to  her.  Dolly  is  with  her,  and 
Dolly  is  pretty,  and  her  husband  is  there  with 
his  calm,  pale,  indifferent  face.  All  the  others 
are  like  moving  shadows  to  Mary,  in  the  light 
of  the  presence  of  these  two. 

And  then  Mary  sees  the  hostility  which  has 
gone  out  of  its  way  to  haul  up  its  flag  against 
her.  She  looks  at  the  men  with  her,  Poncet 
and  the  other  two,  old  acquaintances,  elegant 
looking  men,  both  of  them.  She  sees  that 
Reg  is  eating  his  dinner  and  has  not  seen  her, 
and  that  his  womenkind  do  not  mean  that  he 
shall.  Perhaps  Mary  would  not  be  a  woman 
if  there  was  not  a  little  resolve  born  in  that 
instant. 

Poncet  lifts  his  eyeglass  and  follows  the 
direction  of  Mary's  eyes.  Then  he  looks  back 
at  her.  Old  worldling  that  he  is,  he  looks  at 
Baylor,  and  wonders  if  a  man  like  that  can 
always  hold  the  passionate,  tempestuous  heart 
of  a  woman  so  much  younger  than  himself, 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  71 

and  he  looks  at  Reg.  He  glances  several 
times  at  Edyth,  but  there  is  no  opening  into 
which  he  can  wedge  a  question  about  her, 
and  Poncet  learned  long  ago  that  it  is  always 
safe  to  let  somebody  else  introduce  a  personal 
topic  of  conversation.  One  never  knows 
what  ground  one  may  be  stepping  upon. 

As  soon  as  possible  Mrs.  Courtney  leads  her 
group  up  stairs.  It  is  stupider  sitting  about 
in  a  little  stuffy  room  that  is  a  parlor  only  by 
courtesy,  than  strolling  off  on  the  verandas  or 
the  board  walk,  but  Mrs.  Courtney  made  some 
murmurs  about  "  objectionable  people  "  and 
drew  down  the  blinds. 

"Edyth,"  Reg  said  suddenly,  "let's  go  out 
and  sit  in  the  pavilion.  The  tide  is  com 
ing  in.  It  is  hot  here  ;"  and  Edyth,  with  her 
face  alight,  followed  him. 

There  is  an  old  saying  that  in  every  mar 
riage  or  engagement  one  of  the  pair  is  booted 
and  spurred  and  the  other  saddled  and  bridled. 
There  is  none  of  the  self  confidence  of  the 
conqueror  about  Reg,  but  certainly  there  is 
none  of  the  meekness  of  the  slave.  That  role, 


72  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

if  it  must  be  played,  has  been  cast  for  another. 
Edyth  walks  stiffly  by  her  lover's  side  through 
the  crowds  on  the  veranda,  and  then  she  slips 
her  hand  under  his  arm.  She  looks  at  all  the 
men  they  meet  and  thinks  how  big  and  hand 
some  and  dear  Reg  is.  He  was  only  civil  to 
Mrs.  Baylor.  A  man — a  gentleman — must  be 
civil  to  a  woman  who  literally  throws  herself 
at  his  head ;  but  he  has  forgotten  all  about  her 
now.  They  sit  down  over  by  the  rail  where 
the  waves  dash  in  gloriously  and  the  wind 
sweeps  boldly. 

"  May  I  smoke?" 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course,"  Edyth  says. 

Reg  has  been  smoking  in  her  face  ever  since 
he  came  home  from  school  with  the  accomp 
lishment,  and  some  way  this  request  seems  to 
set  her  apart  from  the  sisterly  role  she  has 
always  played,  and  while  it  puts  her  away  in 
a  certain  sense,  draws  her  nearer,  too.  It 
thrills  the  heart  that  has  never  known  any 
really  thrilling  experience.  She  made  little 
pictures,  air  castles,  day  dreams. 

Poor  Edyth  !     They  sat  there  for  an  hour, 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  73 

almost  silent.  Now  and  then  there  was  some 
thing,  an  extra  gust  of  wind,  a  passing  steamer, 
that  called  out  a  remark ;  and  then  the  band 
for  the  dance  began  to  tune  up  and  send  out  a 
bar  or  two  of  waltz  music.  It  isn't  exactly  a 
propitious  time  for  Edyth  to  become  playful 
and  take  a  sweetheart's  privilege  of  scolding. 
But  tact  is  like  beauty,  reserved  for  nature's 
pets. 

"  I'm  afraid  mamma  has  a  rod  in  pickle  for 
you,  Reg,"  she  says. 

"Eh?" 

"For  staying  with  Mrs.  Baylor  and  walking 
home  with  her.  You  know  it's  altogether 
likely  that  she  isn't  going  to  be  taken  up  at 
all,  down  in  Ellenbro',  and  our  connection 
with  her  is  likely  to  be  embarrassing.  /  think 
she  looks  theatrical,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  really  didn't  notice.  It's  too  cold  here 
for  you  ;  let's  go  in." 

He  fairly  hurries  her  up  the  steps  and  into 
his  mother's  presence,  and  then  he  starts  away. 
She  stops  him  at  the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 


74  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Oh,  nowhere !  I'm  tired.  I'm  going  to 
my  room  for  a  while." 

"Oh!" 

Edyth  goes  to  hers  and  leans  out  into  the 
moonlight.  She  hardly  misses  her  lover,  she 
has  so  much  to  think  about.  There  is  a  con 
stant  procession  on  its  way  to  the  ball  room 
across  the  court.  She  idly  notices  some  of 
them.  A  beautiful  woman,  tall,  with  her  silk 
train  gathered  up  and  a  big  bunch  of  pink 

roses  in  her  hand,  comes  out,  and Edyth 

gives  a  gasp.  In  evening  dress,  with  radiant 
face,  dancing  attendance,  is  Reg,  her  Reg,  and 
the  woman  is  Mrs.  Richard  Baylor.  Edyth 
slams  the  window  and  goes  to  bed,  her  heart 
one  ache  and  tears  of  rage  on  her  pillow. 


IV. 

.  BAYLOR  and  her  party  were  not 
long  in  following  Mrs.  Courtney  out  of 
the  dining  room.  She  had  things  to  say  to 
her  husband,  and  she  dismissed  the  men  who 
hung  about  her  with  the  cheerful  remark  that 
she  was  going  up  stairs  to  sing  Dolly  to  "  bye 
low,"  as  was  her  nightly  habit  She  mingled 
that  maternal  announcement  with  promises  to 
dance  at  the  hop  later  in  the  evening.  They 
may  have  expected  Baylor  to  go  with  them, 
but  his  wife  held  his  arm  with  a  determination 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  Mrs.  Courtney 
herself.  When  Mary  wanted  her  husband 
merely  because  she  loved  him  and  couldn't 
bear  him  out  of  her  sight,  that  was  one  thing. 
Then  it  was  that  she  charmed  him  until  he  saw 
no  one  but  her,  and  she  would  not  have  had 
him  follow  her  under  other  conditions ;  but 
when  it  was  a  matter  of  business  she  kept  him 
75 


76  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

as  a  right.  Mary  had  had  few  whims  which 
her  husband  had  not  indulged  her  in  these 
four  years. 

When  they  have  reached  their  own  apartment 
at  last,  Mary  turns  around  and  kisses  her  hus 
band  with  her  two  hands  on  his  shoulders. 
He  looks  into  her  face,  and  puts  his  arm 
around  her  and  says,  "  I  just  love  you,  Polly  !  " 
but  it  is  more  with  the  cheerful,  off  hand  air 
of  saying  "It's  a  fine  morning"  than  with 
the  ardor  of  a  lover.  Impulsive,  impetuous, 
spirited  Mary  wonders  sometimes  if  he  does 
love  her  at  all,  and  then  she  puts  her  head 
against  his  and  passionately  declares  to  herself 
that  she  does  not  care.  He  is  hers. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you  :  I  met  all 
the  Courtneys  from  down  in  Ellenbro'  this 
morning." 

"You  did?" 

"  Yes ;  I  went  out  to  swim,  you  know.  I 
didn't  know  when  we  first  came  out  that  the 
young  man  who  saved  Dolly's  life  was  young 
Courtney  that  you  told  me  about  this  morn 
ing.  They  took  me  for  somebody  else  and 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  77 

were  very  civil  to  me,  and  then — don't  say 
anything  to  me,  Dick,  about  good  manners  ! 
When  that  old  woman  whose  gown  is  so  tight 
it  is  ready  to  crack  from  her  back,  and  that 
pasty  young  woman,  found  out  who  I  was 
they  walked  off  with  rudeness — I  never  saw 
anything  like  it !  I  suppose  that  is  the  sort  of 
sophisticated  mother  you  think  Dolly  ought  to 
have  to  teach  her  how  to  behave  and  whom 
to  associate  with.  Ladies  !  "  and  Mrs.  Baylor's 
scorn  was  an  effect  that  would  have  made  her 
fortune  on  the  stage. 

"  And  how  did  the  young  man  act  ?  "  Mr. 
Baylor  feels  as  sure  as  he  ever  felt  in  his  life 
that  Mary  has  left  none  of  her  social  debts 
lying  about  for  him  to  pay.  He  is  too  indo 
lent  to  care  about  most  things,  but  a  slight  to 
his  wife  in  which  she  had  come  off  second 
best  would  probably  find  him  coming  up  as  a 
reinforcement. 

"He?  He  was  charming.  He  stayed  and 
walked  home  with  me  in  their  faces,  and  I 
have  promised  dances  to  him  tonight.  I  hope 
those  horrors  will  be  there,  because  I  am  going 


y8  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

to  wear  my  best  gown."  She  goes  down  into 
her  trunk  and  brings  it  up.  "  I'm  glad  it's 
pink.  That  horribly  ugly  girl  has  on  a  pink 
gown,  but  it  looks  like  a  hollyhock  by  the 
side  of  a  tea  rose  in  comparison  to  mine.  But 
pshaw ! "  Mary  took  her  pretty  gown  and 
threw  it  over  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  Why 
should  I  waste  any  ammunition  on  that  affair  ? 
That  nice  boy  isn't  going  to  tie  himself  to  a 
frump.  He  has  too  much  appreciation  of  a 
good  thing  when  he  sees  it,"  and  Mrs.  Baylor 
looks  at  herself  complacently  in  the  glass. 

"  You  seem  to  have  like  powers  of  recogni 
tion,"  her  husband  says,  an  expression  which 
comes  as  near  a  smile  as  he  ever  allows  him 
self  crossing  his  pale,  taciturn  face. 

"  I  have,"  but  as  she  says  it  it  is  at  her  hus 
band  instead  of  at  her  own  image  that  Mary 
looks. 

But  even  though  Mary  puts  down  the 
"  beauty  gown  "  as  too  precious  to  be  wasted 
upon  Atlantic  City,  she  is  a  beautiful  woman 
when  she  enters  the  ball  room,  and  every  man 
and  woman  there  turn  to  look  at  her.  After  all 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  79 

these  years  she  still  has  too  good  a  walk  and  a 
too  evidently  studied  carriage  not  to  be  re 
garded  as  a  little  different  from  other  women. 
There  is  that  indefinable  something  about 
Mary  that  seems  "  profession,"  that  thing  that 
is  the  bugbear  of  most  women. 

Reginald  sees  her  in  the  midst  of  everything 
as  he  comes  in.  Her  husband  is  hanging 
about  in  the  background  ;  or  at  least  it  would 
be  hanging  in  the  background  for  any  other 
man  ;  but  Richard  Baylor  is  something  like 
MacGregor :  where  he  sits  is  the  head  of  the 
table.  He  and  his  wife  seem  to  make  back 
grounds  of  other  people. 

Looking  at  Mary  one  may  be  sure  that  she 
would  have  been  a  star  actress.  After  all  it  is 
personality  and  charm  that  makes  one  actor 
different  from  another,  whether  it  is  on  the 
stage  of  the  world  or  the  stage  of  a  theater. 
It  isn't  that  one  feels  the  part  more  than 
another,  or  even  expresses  it  better.  It  is  the 
person  who  seems  to  do  a  thing  in  the  way 
we  should  like  to  have  done  it. 

But  the  women  may  sit  and  ask  their  hus- 


So  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

bands  and  each  other  if  they  know  who  the 
"  actress  looking  woman  "  is  ;  there  are  men 
in  plenty  who  want  to  ask  her  to  dance.  Reg 
has  hardly  the  courage  to  approach  her.  She 
sees  him  in  a  moment  and  beckons  to  him  to 
come  to  her,  her  lips  parting  over  her  pretty 
white  teeth.  Courtney  hasn't  been  beckoned 
to  much  ;  he  feels  it  all  over  him,  and  he  goes 
over  at  once.  The  question  that  Mary  asks 
him  isn't  exactly  what  he  expects  to  hear. 
"  Where  are  your  mother  and  Miss  Smith  ?  " 
"They?  Oh!  they — they  didn't  care  to 
come.  What — dance  is  mine?" 

Mary  hasn't  a  program.  None  of  the  women 
has  one.  She  has  promised  to  dance  the 
"  next  waltz  "  with  half  a  dozen  people.  Only 
a  minute  before  she  had  turned  and  looked 
half  wistfully  into  her  husband's  face,  hoping 
he  was  going  to  ask  her  to  dance  it  with  him, 
but  he  stays  on  the  outer  rim.  Dancing  has 
lost  its  savor  to  Richard  Baylor  these  half  a 
dozen  years,  except  for  that  brief  interval 
when  he  would  have  done  anything  to  take 
Mary  away  from  another  man  even  for  five 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  8 1 

minutes.  She  belongs  to  him  now,  for  good 
and  all.  So  Reg  seems  as  good  as  anybody, 
lacking  Dick,  and  she  says,  "  Now,"  as  the 
music  comes  softly  in  well  timed  cadences,  and 
they  start  off  together. 

It  seems  to  Reg  that  never  in  all  his  life  has 
he  ever  danced  before.  They  are  dancing  in 
the  dining  room,  from  which  the  chairs  and 
tables  have  been  hastily  removed,  but  to  Reg 
the  floor  is  perfect.  Mary  decides,  as  she  goes 
around  with  him,  that  he  has  the  making  of 
a  good  dancer,  but  the  hour  hasn't  struck 
which  makes  him  perfect.  She  thinks  long 
ingly  of  Dick  and  how  he  can  dance,  and  looks 
over  Reg's  shoulder  to  see  if  he  is  anywhere 
near. 

To  Reg  there  is  nothing  left.  Life  has 
culminated  in  this  hour  when  Mary  Baylor  is 
floating  around  the  room  in  his  arms.  He 
wonders  how  it  has  happened  that  he  has  never 
known  a  woman  like  this  before.  He  has 
never  believed  that  they  lived  except  in  a  story 
writer's  imagination.  His  eyes  fall  down  upon 
the  little  curls  about  her  white  nape,  and  he 


82  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

looks  at  the  firm  roundness  of  her  neck  and 
gets  a  little  dizzy. 

Mary  stops.  "  Do  you  know  I  believe  I  will 
go  and  have  an  ice  ? "  and  tucks  her  hand 
under  his  arm  and  goes  out  across  the  piazza. 
to  a  little  room  where  people  are  drinking  the 
mildest  of  lemon  sherbets  out  of  little  glass 
cups.  If  there  is  wine  to  be  drunk  it  is  not 
set  out  in  public. 

Mary  looks  about  for  her  husband,  not 
anxiously,  because  she  is  never  anxious  with 
the  terrors  which  beset  some  wives.  Baylor 
has  never  done  anything  yet  which  has  dis 
turbed  his  wife  in  the  least.  She  knew  his 
habits  when  she  married  him,  and  he  has  always 
gone  about  his  affairs  in  a  way  which  precluded 
any  idea  that  he  might  possibly  be  criticised. 
When  she  sees  that  he  has  gone  and  that  Poncet 
and  the  other  men  have  also  disappeared,  the 
reason  is  perfectly  apparent  to  her.  She  knows 
that  up  stairs  in  her  parlor,  of  which  she  has  just 
taken  possession,  there  is  in  progress  a  game 
in  which  disks  of  ivory  in  red  and  white  and 
blue  are  playing  a  very  prominent  part. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  83 

"  They  have  all  gone  off  and  left  me,"  she 
says.  "  I  don't  see  what  there  is  for  you  to  do 
but  take  care  of  me."  It  is  at  this  instant  that 
Edyth  looks  out  of  her  bed  room  window  and 
sees  them.  Mary  looks  in  upon  the  dancing 
again.  There  aren't  many  people  in  the  ball 
room.  None  that  she  seems  to  care  anything 
about.  She  wonders  what  she  came  for ;  the 
light  of  it  all  has  gone  out. 

"  Come  along,"  she  says.  "  Let  us  go  up 
to  my  little  parlor  and  we  will  see  what  they 
are  all  doing.  That  husband  of  mine  is  cer 
tain  to  be  led  into  mischief,  and  I  am  afraid 
they've  left  the  doors  open  into  Dolly's  room, 
and  the  poor  child  will  be  suffocated  by  smoke." 

Reg  follows  her  obediently  enough.  There 
is  a  cloud  of  smoke  already  circling  toward  the 
ceiling.  They  do  not  even  enter  the  room. 
Mary  slips  softly  into  the  other  chamber  and 
closes  the  door  between  it  and  Dolly,  and  then 
comes  back  to  Reg.  There  is  a  little  balcony 
outside,  and  they  steal  out  there  and  sit  in  the 
white  light  of  the  moon.  The  honeysuckle, 
yellow  and  white,  which  the  sea  air  seems  to 


84  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

foster,  grows  up  almost  to  their  hand  and 
lavishes  its  sweetness  upon  the  soft  air  blow 
ing  in  from  the  ocean. 

Reg  has  forgotten  that  there  lives  on  the 
earth  another  than  the  beautiful  woman  beside 
him.  He  feels  ten  years  older  and  in  another 
world.  Mary  tries  to  hear  the  words  inside, 
the  words  of  the  game,  whose  meaning  she 
knows  so  well,  to  tell  her  whether  her  hus 
band  is  losing  or  winning.  She  does  not  want 
him  to  lose,  because  when  he  does  he  is  just  a 
little  quieter  and  more  sarcastic. 

"  You  will  find  Ellenbro'  very  different  from 
all  this,  Mrs.  Baylor." 

"What  ////j?" 

"  Oh,  the  sea  and  the  gaiety." 

"  I  suppose  from  the  way  your  mother  and 
cousin  treated  me  today  that  whatever  gaiety 
there  is  I  shall  not  share  in."  Of  course  it  is 
neither  courteous  nor  tactful  for  Mary  to  say 
any  such  thing,  but  there  is  a  plaintive  little 
note  in  her  voice  which  robs  it  of  its  dis 
courtesy,  and  it  touches  Reg  as  she  perhaps 
understands  that  it  will. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  85 

His  face  flushes  and  his  voice  takes  on  a 
note  of  deep  embarrassment.  "  My  mother 
did  not  understand." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  did — only  too  well.  I  know 
exactly  how  they  all  mean  to  treat  me  down 
there.  I  am  a  Bohemian,  born  into  all  the 
heritages  of  that  race.  I  know  what  to  expect 
now.  I  can  understand,  as  though  I  had  in 
herited  that  knowledge,  too.  My  mother  was 
a  dancer,  Mr.  Courtney ;  I  wonder  if  the  Ellen- 
bro'  people  know  that  ?  She  was  a  pretty,  gay, 
light  hearted  woman  who  married  a  man  who 
broke  her  heart.  Mr.  Poncet  knew  him. 
When  I  was  going  to  marry  Dick  he  came  and 
to.ld  me  about  it  as  a  warning.  He  thinks 
stage  people  ought  to  marry  people  of  their 
own  sort.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  Dick 
was  just  exactly  my  sort.  I  don't  know  any 
body  who  is  more  of  a  Bohemian  than  he  is." 

Reginald  does  not  want  to  talk  about  Mrs. 
Baylor's  husband. 

"  Where  did  you  live  when  you  were  a 
child  ? "  He  could  imagine  what  a  pretty, 
gay  little  thing  she  must  have  been. 


86  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  In  Paris.  My  mother  was  an  American, 
though.  My  sister  and  I — we  were  almost 
the  same  age — but  this  cannot  interest  you." 
Mary  suddenly  remembers  that  Dick  never 
cares  to  hear  about  those  old  days — and  there 
are  some  memories  which  she  has  brought  up 
which  make  her  own  voice  tremulous — memo 
ries  that  are  the  only  break  in  her  happy  life, 
she  thinks. 

"  It  interests  me  very  much.  I  have  lived  so 
quietly.  I  know  almost  nothing  of  the 
world." 

"Oh,  that's  delightful !  "  Mary  says  cheer 
fully.  "  You  will  learn.  I  have  never  had  a 
friend  who  did  not  know  too  much  of  the 
world.  All  you  ought  to  know  I  will  teach 
you.  We  are  going  to  be  friends,  aren't  we?" 

"  It  is  all  yours  to  say,"  Reg  replies  happily. 
He  almost  hopes  Ellenbro'  will  not  come  in  a 
body  to  call  at  Castle  Hill.  He  sees  himself 
daily  walking  with  Dolly  and  her  mother 
about  the  old  paths. 

It  is  twelve  o'clock  when  Mary  gets  up  to 
go  inside  and  Reg  must  tear  himself  away. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  87 

It  seems  as  though  it  must  be  only  nine.  As 
he  slips  along  the  corridor  and  pushes  his 
large  and  blatant  key  into  his  lock,  his  mother's 
room  door  opens  and  she  stands  there  in  a  bed 
room  wrapper  with  a  Bible  in  her  hand,  and 
with  every  air  of  having  just  read  of  the 
sharpness  of  having  a  thankless  child. 

"  Reginald,"  she  says,  "  where  have  you 
been  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  He  looks  his  stubbornest.  "  I  have 
been  spending  a  very  charming  evening  with 
Mrs.  Baylor  on  her  balcony." 

And  then  they  shut  their  respective  doors. 


VII. 

TV/IRS.  STANLEY  was  a  woman  of  the 
world  beyond  all  things.  The  position 
that  she  had  made  for  herself  in  society  showed 
to  advantage  the  adaptability  of  the  American 
girl.  Brought  up  in  a  country  town,  she 
had  early  married  a  young  lieutenant  in  the 
army  and  had  managed,  by  an  exercise  of  her 
wit  and  good  humor  and  likableness,  to  keep 
her  husband  at  the  best  Eastern  stations.  He 
was  a  colonel  now,  all  by  reason  of  his  wife's  ad 
mirable  way  of  turning  trumps  and  playing  the 
small  cards  in  her  hand  to  the  best  advantage. 
It  was  popularly  supposed  that  she  had 
come  down  to  Atlantic  City  for  the  wonderful 
tonic  there  is  in  the  air  and  to  obtain  rest  from 
the  onerous  social  duties  which  surrounded 
her  in  Washington  and  New  York.  But  Mrs. 
Stanley  knew  better.  There  was  a  coveted 
position  that  was  going  to  be  empty  in  a  few 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  89 

months,  and  which  it  seemed  to  her  had  been 
created  especially  that  her  big,  handsome  hus 
band  might  fill  it.  There  was  a  Cabinet  officer 
who  was  given  over  to  good  works  and  whose 
very  democratic  tastes  led  him  to  Atlantic 
City  for  the  summer.  It  had  seemed  to  Mrs. 
Stanley  a  very  propitious  time  for  cultivating 
his  acquaintance.  A  man  is  much  likelier  to 
give  an  appointment  to  a  man  he  likes  and 
whose  wife  he  likes  than  to  an  utter  stranger. 
Mrs.  Stanley  feared  that  the  great  man 
might  think  her  frivolous  from  the  stories  that 
he  had  heard  of  her.  It  seemed  a  good  time 
to  teach  him  better.  There  were  seaside 
charities  in  which  a  woman  might  interest 
herself,  and  Mrs.  Stanley  speedily  discovered 
which  was  the  object  of  the  Cabinet  minister's 
solicitude,  and  devoted  herself  to  that.  They 
were  in  need  of  money.  The  Cabinet  minister 
was  very  rich,  and  Mrs.  Stanley  was  not  exactly 
poverty  stricken,  but  an  entertainment  would 
attract  attention  and  possible  contributions 
with  much  more  success  than  the  simple  draw 
ing  of  a  check,  thus  keeping  the  left  hand 


90  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

from  a  knowledge  of  the  right  hand's  good 
works. 

It  was  the  morning  after  the  dance  that 
Mrs.  Stanley  sat  over  her  breakfast  table  and 
pondered.  Mrs.  Stanley  had  no  children,  and 
the  little  table  that  held  the  china  and  silver 
was  dainty  and  bright  with  flowers,  and  over 
it  with  the  aroma  of  the  coffee  there  hung  that 
air  of  confidence  that  always  comes  when  a 
man  thinks  his  wife  is  the  cleverest  woman  in 
the  world. 

Mrs.  Stanley  was  forty,  but  in  her  girlish  duck 
linen  gown  and  sailor  hat  nobody  would  take 
her  to  be  past  twenty  five.  She  was  arrayed 
this  morning  for  going  out.  Her  white  silk 
umbrella  and  white  gloves  lay  on  a  chair 
beside  her,  and  her  big,  loose  white  veil  wras 
all  ready  to  adjust. 

"  Yes,"  she  was  saying  as  she  broke  a  lump 
of  sugar  in  two  that  Colonel  Stanley's  coffee 
might  be  sweetened  exactly  to  his  taste,  "  I 
am  going  up  to  the  hotel  where  the  Honorable 
Jacob  is  staying  and  get  up  some  sort  of  an 
entertainment.  I  can  find  somebody,  I  suppose. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  91 

The  Honorable  Jacob  owns  property  in 
this  part  of  the  country  and  he  likes  to  see 
'  the  quality '  disporting  themselves  in  the 
neighborhood." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  get  your  talent?" 
The  colonel  is  good  natured  and  passive.  He 
considers  his  wife  a  creator ;  that  she  has  only 
to  say,  "  Let  it  be,"  and  it  is.  But  sometimes 
her  methods  amuse  him. 

"  Oh,  I  am  going  up  to  the  hotel.  When  I 
went  into  the  hop  last  night  I  heard  two  or 
three  men  speak  of  a  very  pretty  '  actressy  ' 
woman.  She  seemed  to  be  somebody  who  was 
not  unmentionable  from  the  way  they  spoke. 
I  couldn't  get  much  information  out  of  them, 
but  enough  to  make  me  think  that  I  might 
find  my  piece  de  resistance  right  there.  It 
would  be  a  good  advertisement  for  the  hotel 
for  them  to  let  us  have  theatricals  in  the 
dining  room,  especially  as  the  Honorable  Jacob 
will  attend.  Oh,  I  can  arrange  it  all.  I  found 
out  last  night  that  I  have  some  kin,  some 
of  my  sixtieth  cousins  from  down  in  Ellenbro', 
over  there  at  the  hotel.  It  appears  that  the 


92  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

pretty  actress'  husband  is  an  Ellenbro'  man. 
Maybe  another  connection  of  mine,  for  all  I 
know.  I've  got  a  branch  of  my  family  tree 
budding  into  that  of  almost  every  other  South 
ern  stalk.  At  any  rate  I  am  going  over  to  the 
hotel  and  see  what  I  can  drum  up.  The 
Honorable  Jacob  looks  with  favor  upon  any 
thing  which  will  assist  him  to  be  conspicuous 
as  a  man  of  charity  and  not  bear  upon  his 
purse."  And  after  breakfast  Mrs.  Stanley  ad 
justed  her  veil,  spread  her  white  parasol,  and 
took  her  departure. 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Courtney  and  Edyth 
were  sitting  on  the  shady  corner  of  the  piazza. 
Reg  had  gone  up  the  board  walk  to  buy  some 
trifle  for  his  mother.  Mrs.  Courtney  had  gazed 
rather  charily  upon  the  slender,  white  clad  figure 
that  had  come  up  the  steps  and  gone  into  the 
office.  After  her  experiences  of  the  day  before 
she  looked  every  strange  woman  over  critically, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  were  not  only 
flaws,  but  radical  faults  which  would  condemn 
them  to  the  unvisited  state,  in  each.  So  when 
the  white  duck  gown  and  sailor  hat  made  a 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  93 

second  appearance  and  walked  straight  up  to 
her,  she  received  it  with  a  stoniness  of  mien 
which  would  have  overawed  almost  anybody 
but  Mrs.  Stanley.  That  calm  woman  held 
out  a  hand  with  an  unabated  cordiality. 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Courtney  from  Ellenbro',  isn't 
it  ?  I  wonder  if  you  have  forgotten  that  there 
is  such  a  person  as  Helen  Stanley — Helen 
Lacy?" 

"  Indeed  I  have  not."  Mrs.  Courtney  rises 
with  the  smile  which  had  been  so  cruelly 
nipped  in  the  bud  yesterday.  This  is  a  great  deal 
better  than  she  had  hoped  for.  She  introduces 
Edyth  to  Mrs.  Stanley,  and  they  all  sit  down 
to  talk.  Mrs.  Stanley  takes  in  poor  Edyth. 
She  had  heard  of  her,  and  she  had  vaguely 
hoped  to  find  some  material  here  for  this 
scheme  of  entertainment  which  she  has  on 
hand.  She  had  expected  to  find  her  pretty, 
at  any  rate.  Beauty  is  supposed  to  be  the 
birthright  of  a  girl  born  south  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line,  but  Edyth  did  not  meet  ap 
proval  in  Mrs.  Stanley's  eyes.  She  looked  to 
her  like  a  libel  upon  the  South,  whose  fame  as 


94  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

a  mother  of  beautiful  and  tactful  women  she 
herself  had  done  so  much  to  keep  up.  Mrs. 
Courtney  struck  her  as  f  rum  pier  than  the 
frumpiest,  with  none  of  the  sweetness  and 
motherliness  which  she  had  expected. 

By  the  time  she  had  talked  to  them  ten 
minutes,  she  wondered  what  she  had  hunted 
them  up  for.  There  only  remained  the  pos 
sible  hope  of  their  introducing  the  pretty 
woman  she  had  heard  of.  But  Mrs.  Stanley 
had  doubts  even  of  this.  The  Courtneys  did 
not  look  like  people  who  would  be  likely  to 
be  intimate  with  any  "  pretty  actressy  woman." 
But  she  put  on  her  pleasantest  voice,  and 
asked  : 

"  Were  you  at  the  dance  last  night  ?  "  She 
had  turned  to  Edyth.  "  I  do  not  remember 
seeing  you  there  !  " 

"  I  do  not  approve  of  these  mixed  dances  at 
seaside  places  at  all,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said 
stiffly.  "  You  are  apt  to  meet  such  a  curious 
crowd.  So  different  from  the  people  one  is 
accustomed  to." 

"  Yes  " — Mrs.  Stanley's  smile  was  bland — 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  95 

"  that  is  true.  But  do  you  know,  it  is  rather 
upon  that  account  that  I  like  them.  You  see 
people  that  you  see  nowhere  else.  Aren't 
you  inclined  to  find  all  sorts  of  originalities 
among  the  men  and  women  who  are  not  bound 
by  conventionalities  ?  Aren't  they  an  interest 
ing  study  to  you  ?  "  Her  large,  soft  bright 
eyes  went  from  one  face  to  the  other.  There 
was  a  little  lightening  in  Edyth's  face.  She 
had  thought  that  some  way  and  somehow  it 
might  be  pleasant  to  go  off  with  Reg  if  she 
knew  exactly  how,  and  see  and  do  things  that 
were  unheard  of  in  Ellenbro'.  But  Edyth's 
face  was  not  expressive  enough  for  Mrs.  Stan 
ley  to  catch  the  glow.  She  only  saw  the  look 
of  stony  disapproval  in  Mrs.  Courtney's  eyes, 
and  I  am  afraid  Mrs.  Stanley's  tact  left  her 
and  she  felt  the  joy  that  comes  at  times  to 
even  the  best  of  us,  of  shocking  those  who 
would  sit  in  judgment. 

"  I  think  that  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  a 
small  town.  There  everybody  knows  every 
body  else,  and  when  there  are  people  who  break 
away  from  the  ordinary  bounds  you  all  are  able 


96  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

to  study  their  tricks  and  manners.  Now,  in  a 
large  city,  everybody  whom  it  is  possible  for  you 
to  know  is  cut  on  exactly  the  same  pattern." 

"  A  very  good  pattern  cannot  be  used  too 
often,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said,  with  the  air  of 
having  invented  a  proverb. 

"  True  enough,  but  the  same  thing  over  and 
over  does  become  a  little  tiresome  now  and 
then  ; "  and  then  Mrs.  Stanley  prepared  to  ask 
about  Mary  Baylor.  But  at  that  instant  Reg 
came  up  the  steps.  His  mother  beckoned  and 
he  walked  over  to  them. 

Mrs.  Stanley  looked  him  over  in  the  second 
of  his  approaching  and  decided  that  he  was 
the  redeeming  feature  of  the  family.  Mrs. 
Stanley  had  not  been  living  among  men  for 
twenty  years  not  to  know  the  good,  sound 
specimens  when  she  saw  them. 

She  stood  up  and  shook  hands  with  Regi 
nald  very  heartily.  She  liked  young  men,  and 
they,  appreciating  her  friendship  and  the  good 
time  she  gave  them,  liked  her. 

"  You  are  just  the  person  I  am  looking  for, 
my  young  cousin,"  she  said  gaily.  "I  am  try- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  97 

ing  to  get  up  a  little  play,  some  tableaux,  what 
not."  She  threw  out  her  hands  to  express  her 
willingness  to  entertain  in  any  way.  "  And  I 
am  looking  for  a  prince  for  my  fairy  tale. 
Will  you  be  it?" 

"A  prince  in  a  fairy  tale?  Well,  I  am 
afraid  that  is  hardly  a  natural  r61e,"  Reg  be 
gan.  He  was  not  learned  in  the  light  answers 
to  light  speeches. 

"  Oh,  well,  actors  all  say  that  it  is  the  r61e 
which  is  entirely  foreign  to  their  natures  which 
they  do  best.  All  this  is  for  sweet  charity's 
sake.  I  know  your  mother  will  approve." 

"What  is  it?"  Mrs.  Courtney  asked. 

"  The  Seaside  Home  for  Shop  Girls.  We 
think  it  a  very  fine  charity.  The  Honorable 
Jacob  Leland,  the  Cabinet  member,  is  very 
actively  interested  in  it,  and  has  enlisted  my 
sympathies.  They  send  down  two  shop  girls 
from  each  store  at  a  time,  and  give  them  a 
week's  outing.  We  want  to  get  up  an  enter 
tainment  to  bring  in  some  much  needed  funds. 
I  had  thought  of  theatricals." 

"  Of  course  Reginald  will  do  everything  in 


98  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

his  power  to  assist  you,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said. 
"And  so  will  Edyth.  It  will  be  delightful. 
A  little  play  seems  to  be  just  the  thing." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  the  idea.  It  pleases 
me.  Some  gay,  sparkling  little  comedy.  Some 
thing  short  and  brisk." 

"  But  I  have  had  absolutely  no  experience," 
Reg  begins. 

"  That's  not  of  the  least  consequence,"  Mrs. 
Stanley  says,  with  that  air  of  taking  possession 
which  most  young  men  find  perfectly  irresist 
ible  in  an  older  woman,  and  particularly  an 
older  woman  who  looks  as  much  like  a  younger 
woman  as  Mrs.  Stanley  does.  But  as  he  looks 
at  her  and  admires  her,  leaning  over  the  back 
of  a  chair  and  facing  him,  with  that  look 
which  your  truly  successful  conquering  woman 
never  loses  out  of  her  eyes,  whatever  her  age, 
he  laughs  at  the  idea  of  pretty,  jolly,  girlish, 
round  cheeked  Mary  Baylor  having  been  taken 
for  Mrs.  Stanley.  Mrs.  Stanley  was  charming, 
but  to  Reg's  eyes  she  was  not  young. 

"  By  the  by,"  the  mistress  of  the  contem 
plated  revels  continues,  "  I  have  been  hearing 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  99 

something  about  a  townswoman  of  yours  who 
is  here,  who  I  fancy  may  be  of  enormous  assist 
ance  to  us.  They  say  she  is  so  pretty  and 
has  such  an  air.  Two  or  three  gentlemen 
spoke  to  me  of  her  last  night.  I  didn't  come 
in  until  late,  and  it  seems  she  only  stayed 
a  few  minutes.  Nobody  seemed  to  know 
much  about  her,  but  I  gathered  enough  to 
know  she  could  probably  help  us  out." 

It  seemed  that  Mrs.  Stanley  was  never  to 
be  allowed  to  finish  her  sentences,  which  were 
to  culminate  with  the  dreadful  fact  that  she 
wanted  to  know  Mary  Baylor.  General  Court 
ney  now  added  his  personality  to  the  group. 

He  was  genuinely  glad  to  see  Helen  Lacy. 
He  knew  family  histories  that  precious  few 
people  cared  to  hear  talked  about  nowadays. 
Neither  did  Mrs.  Stanley  care  if  he  had  but 
known  it,  but  he  could  not  believe  that,  when 
so  much  of  it  concerned  her  own  immediate 
ancestry.  And  as  long  as  Mrs.  Stanley  had 
nothing  better  to  do  than  to  listen  to  his 
reminiscences,  the  general  would  never  be 
likely  to  discover  it. 


100  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

There  were  greetings  to  be  made,  and  then 
they  all  seemed  to  settle  into  the  cordial  talk 
of  old  friends,  old  friends  from  home.  Finally 
the  conversation  led  back  to  Mrs.  Stanley's 
desire  to  have  Reg  help  her  with  theatricals. 
She  stopped  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  her  talk. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  who  it  can  be  of  whom 
you  are  speaking,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said.  "  I  do 
not  know  of  any  of  our  Ellenbro'  girls  who 

are  here — except  Edyth,  and  she "  Mrs. 

Courtney  looked  at  her  as  though  she  might 
have  left  behind  her  a  buzz  of  talk  at  the  hop 
last  night  if  she  had  only  had  the  foresight  to 
go — "  was  not  at  the  dance.  I  know  that  if 
any  of  them  had  been  here  they  would  natur 
ally  have  sought  us  out  at  once.  There  are 
plenty  of  charming  girls  in  Ellenbro'." 

"  I  think  this  young  woman  coming  must 
be  the  one  I  am  in  search  of,"  Mrs.  Stan 
ley  said,  looking  with  eyes  which  could  look 
with  amused  sympathy  upon  another  woman 
being  adored.  "  I  am  sure  from  the  descrip 
tion  that  this  must  be  she." 

Reg  looked,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  woman 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  IOI 

was  fickle  and  woman  was  vain.  Two  or 
three  of  the  men  of  the  night  before  had  man 
aged  to  meet  Baylor  and  be  introduced  to  his 
wife,  and  Mary  was  strolling  slowly  home  from 
her  morning  bath  attended  by  no  less  than 
three,  counting  Poncet. 

"  That  must  be  the  Mrs.  Baylor  they  men 
tioned,"  Mrs.  Stanley  said.  "Isn't  her  husband 
one  of  our  numerous  connections?  She  is 
exactly  the  person  to  help  with  those  theat 
ricals.  I  want  to  ask  you  to  introduce  us." 

Mrs.  Courtney  cleared  her  throat.  "  I  can 
not  say  that  I  consider  Mrs.  Baylor  an  acquaint 
ance.  Nor "  but  Reg  stepped  in.  "I 

know  her  very  well,  Mrs.  Stanley.  I  should 
be  glad  to  introduce  you." 

Our  boy  was  getting  independent.  Mrs. 
Stanley  rose  quickly  to  get  out  of  the  impend 
ing  storm,  and  Reg  followed  her.  Mary  saw 
them  coming,  and  the  faces  they  had  left  be 
hind.  If  she  had  had  any  doubt  before,  she 
knew  now,  that  it  was  to  be  war  between  her 
and  Mrs.  Courtney.  She  held  out  her  hand 
smilingly  to  Reg. 


102  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

There  was  a  calm  dignity  in  Reg's  face 
which  set  well  upon  his  rather  rugged  and 
manly  features  and  frame.  Reg  was  only  an 
inexperienced  youth,  but  he  had  in  a  measure 
been  forced  into  contact  with  Mrs.  Baylor,  and 
he  was  enjoying  his  acquaintance  with  her  as 
he  had  never  enjoyed  anything  in  his  not  too 
gaily  colored  life. 

He  took  her  hand  now  with  every  sign  of 
pleasure  in  seeing  her  again,  and  stepping  to 
one  side  said,  "  Allow  me  to  introduce  you  to 
my  cousin,  Mrs.  Stanley,  who  has  expressed  a 
wish  to  know  you,  Mrs.  Baylor." 

Mrs.  Stanley's  face  was  smiles  and  her  hand 
was  out.  The  men  about  Mrs.  Baylor  had 
withdrawn  into  the  background;  Poncet's  eyes 
were  on  the  horizon. 

"  I  fancy  we  might  find  that  we  were  rela 
tives,  too,"  Mrs.  Stanley  said.  Mrs.  Courtney 
gave  a  sort  of  gasp.  This  was  going  it.  But 
Mrs.  Stanley  was  not  a  woman  to  do  things  by 
halves.  When  she  started  out  she  took  her 
largest  ammunition  along  with  her.  She  never 
made  the  sorry  mistake  of  patronizing  the 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  103 

people  she  wanted  anything  from,  nor  the  one 
as  equally  serious,  of  giving  them  the  impres 
sion  that  she  was  trying  to  get  something  to 
her  own  advantage.  There  is  a  surface  honesty 
of  speech  which  appeals  to  all  of  us,  and  Mrs. 
Stanley  was  a  past  mistress  in  its  art. 

"  I  believe  I  am  related  to  half  the  people  in 
the  South,  and  I  suppose  the  Baylors  are  likely 
to  be  in  my  line  of  kin.  Any  way,  Mrs. 
Baylor,  I  hope  you  have  Southern  feeling 
enough  to  help  me  out — kin  or  no  kin — with 
a  little  project  of  mine." 

The  cordial  face  and  hearty  hand  were  too 
much  for  Mary.  It  was  what  she  had  hoped 
might  come  to  her  in  the  home  she  was  going 
to,  and  it  warmed  her  heart. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  can  do,"  she  said, 
smiling  back,  "  but  it  shall  be  what  I  can." 

"  We  are  going  to  try  to  get  up  an  entertain 
ment  for  the  Shop  Girls'  Seaside  Home.  We 
want  to  give  a  little  play,  just  some  sparkling 
little  comedy.  Say  for  two."  And  she  looked 
at  Reg  and  then  back  to  Mary.  "  '  Half  an 
Hour  Under  an  Umbrella,'  or  '  A  Morning 


104  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Ride,'  or  something  of  that  sort.  Don't  you 
think  you  could  help  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure "  began  Mary,  and  then  a 

little  cloud  came  over  the  brilliant,  mobile 
face;  the  thought  of  Richard  and  what  he 
would  say.  He  hated  any  reference  to  her 
stage  life.  He  never  had  said  so — she  could 
not  remember  that  he  had  ever  said  so,  but  she 
felt  it.  The  bored  expression  that  was  habitual 
to  his  quiet,  fair  face  was  accented  when  the 
old  days  were  mentioned.  To  Mary  the 
thought  of  again  feeling  the  pulse  of  an 
audience  was  like  the  strongest  stimulant. 
But  all  this  she  had  left  to  become  Richard 
Baylor's  wife,  and  first  and  foremost  he  was 
always  in  her  heart. 

"  I  must  first  ask  my  husband  what  his  plans 
are,"  she  went  on  very  prettily.  It  seemed  so 
pretty  and  so  good  that  Mrs.  Courtney  rather 
resented  it.  She  was  not  anxious  that  Reg 
should  see  anything  which  she  herself  would 
admire  in  Mrs.  Baylor.  Everything  was  going 
away  from  Mrs.  Courtney's  road  any  way. 
There  was  a  dryness  in  her  throat  and  a  burn- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  105 

ing  in  her  breast  which  was  virtuous  indigna 
tion.  That  this  creature  should  be  encouraged ! 

"  Your  husband,  of  course,"  Mrs.  Stanley 
said.  "  But  husbands  are  easily  managed.  I 
fancy  you  will  not  have  much  difficulty." 

Mary  smiled  a  vague  little  smile  and  went 
up  stairs  with  a  promise  to  send  Mrs.  Stanley 
a  note  later  in  the  day. 

"  The  idea  of  that  pretty  woman  not  manag 
ing  her  husband  !  "  Mrs.  Stanley  said,  laugh 
ing,  as  she  turned  back. 

"  Manage  him  !  Of  course."  Mrs.  Court 
ney's  voice  was  full  of  scorn.  "  Didn't  she 
manage  him  into  marrying  her?  Pardon  me, 
Helen,"  and  there  was  a  decided  chill  in  the 
tones,  "  but  I  think  you  are  making  a  great,  a 
serious  mistake  in  giving  Richard  Baylor's 
wife  so  prominent  a  place  in  your  entertain 
ment.  He  is  a  man  who  is  by  no  means  in 
good  odor — a  black  sheep,  in  fact ;  a  man  who 
has  made  a  precarious  living  about  newspaper 
offices,  and  his  wife  has  been  an  actress." 

"  An  actress  !  Has  she  really  ?  If  that 
isn't  fortunate !  " 


106  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Mrs.  Stanley's  eyes  were  bright. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  in  the  begin 
ning?  She  must  select  her  own  play." 

Mrs.  Courtney  retired  into  offended  silence. 
She  did  not  even  say  that  Ellenbro'  would 
certainly  not  receive  Mrs.  Baylor.  The  events 
of  the  last  few  hours  had  settled  that  in  her 
mind  once  and  forever. 

Mary  went  slowly  up  the  wide,  uncarpeted 
steps  of  the  summer  hotel.  She  knew  that  her 
husband  was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  their  parlor 
with  a  brandy  and  soda  at  his  elbow,  and  a  pile 
of  newspapers  and  a  new  book  or  two  adjacent. 
It  is  a  little  habit  which  Mary  has  kept  all 
through  these  years  to  run  over  to  her  hus 
band  when  she  comes  in  and  let  him  know 
that  she  is  there,  if  it  is  only  by  a  little 
squeeze  of  his  arm.  It  is  an  attention  that  he 
takes,  as  he  does  everything  else  in  life,  with 
good  natured  indifference.  But  she  does  not 
go  at  once  now.  She  steps  to  the  mirror  and 
takes  her  hatpins  out  carefully,  one  by  one, 
and  ruffles  up  her  bangs,  watching  his  face  as 
she  does  it. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  107 

If  he  had  only  arisen  and  come  over  to  her 
with  that  little  caress,  Mary's  heart  would 
have  been  full.  But  she  does  not  expect  it  of 
him,  and  his  eyes  never  leave  his  paper.  He 
knows  that  she  will  be  perched  somewhere 
about  the  sofa  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  he  can 
wait.  There  is  none  of  the  impatience  of  life 
about  Richard  Baylor. 

"  I  met  a  lady  from  the  South  just  now. 
She  said  you  might  be  a  cousin  of  hers.  She 
was  a  Mrs.  Stanley." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  Mr.  Baylor  says  indifferently. 
"Was  she  nice  ?" 

"  Yes,  she  was.  She  is  getting  up  a  charity 
entertainment  for  something.  I  didn't  listen 
to  the  cause.  I  think  it  was  something  about 
shop  girls — and  she  wants  me — she  has  asked 
me — to  take  part — to  act." 

Mr.  Baylor  hardly  moves  his  paper. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  do  it?" 

"  I  told  her  I  would  ask  you."  * 

"Oh,  do  as  you  like." 

If  Mr.  Baylor  could  see  in  the  glass  he  would 
note  a  little  tear  start  from  Mary's  long  lashes 


108  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

and  go  down  her  cheek,  but  his  paper  holds 
him  again.  Mary  does  not  go  to  his  side. 
She  walks  over  to  the  desk  by  one  of  her  win 
dows  and  writes  a  little  note.  After  it  is 
finished  she  sits  facing  out  upon  the  sea,  a  pen 
sive  look  upon  her  face,  a  face  that  was  not 
made  for  pensive  looks,  but  for  gaiety  and 
smiles.  Baylor  looks  up  and  sees  the  un 
familiar  shadow.  It  does  not  please  him  to 
see  shadows  anywhere.  The  sun  must  shine 
in  his  world. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  play  and  where  is 
it  to  be  ?  "  he  asks. 

"  I "  There  is  confusion  and  then  a  light 

in  her  face.  "  I  have  just  written  to  decline. 
I — thought  you  wouldn't  care  to  have  me." 

"  By  all  means,"  Baylor  says  with  convic 
tion.  He  isn't  particularly  anxious  to  recall 
to  the  world,  and  it  will  be  recalling  it  to  all 
their  new  world  if  Mary  takes  this  part  while 
the  Courtneys  are  here,  that  his  wife  was  taken 
from  the  stage  door.  But  in  his  heart  Baylor 
cares  little  for  the  world  beyond  his  own  im 
mediate  surroundings.  He  has  married  his 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  109 

wife  without  considering  his  world,  and  now 
she — and  himself — shall  not  be  made  unhappy 
by  any  such  tardy  consideration. 

"  Do  you  truly  mean  it  ?  Oh,  Dick,  you 
darling!"  and  she  rushes  over  to  him  and  puts 
her  young  arms  about  his  neck  and  her  fresh, 
fair,  smooth  cheek  to  his  rather  worn  one, 
worn  a  little  more  today  than  it  was  yesterday. 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  accept 
Mrs.  Stanley's  invitation.  It  will  probably  be 
a  stupid  event,  as  events  go,  but  you  like  to 
meet  new  people,  and  you  like — to  act.  Yes, 
I  should  say  accept  by  all  means." 

Mary  took  the  note  she  had  written  and 
dramatically  tore  it  to  bits.  Mrs.  Courtney 
would  have  said  that  it  was  another  sign  of  her 
shiftless  breeding  that  the  scraps  of  paper  went 
floating  over  the  carpet  and  were  allowed  to 
remain  there. 

"  Dick — boy,  you  are  a  darling  !  "  and  she 
danced  back  to  the  desk  and  wrote  Mrs.  Stan 
ley  an  enthusiastic  note  of  acceptance,  a  note 
which  caused  that  lady  to  lift  up  a  sigh  of  re 
lief  that  so  much  burden  was  off  her  mind. 


VIII. 

A  ROUND  Mrs.  Stanley's  brightly  lighted 
dinner  table  sit  the  Honorable  Jacob, 
drinking  his  claret  and  champagne  with  the 
same  air  of  not  knowing  what  he  is  doing  with 
which  he  eats  his  soup  and  breaks  his  bread  ; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baylor,  and  Reg.  It  isn't  often 
that  Mrs.  Stanley  pays  another  woman  the 
compliment  of  being  her  single  feminine  com 
panion  at  a  dinner  table,  but  she  has  rightly 
judged  that  Mary  would  be  quite  equal  to  the 
occasion.  Men,  in  however  great  numbers, 
have  no  terrors  for  Mrs.  Baylor,  and  awe  of  a 
great  position  she  knows  not.  One  man  is 
very  much  like  another  in  her  eyes,  always  ex 
cepting  her  husband. 

To  Mrs.  Stanley's  surprise,  she  finds  Richard 
Baylor  delightful.  He  can  talk  and  he  does 
talk  remarkably  well.  He  looks  well  at  the 
table.  There  is  an  air  of  exquisite  gentle- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  ill 

manliness  about  him,  the  finish  of  the  true 
cosmopolitan. 

The  Honorable  Jacob  has  expressed  his 
entire  approval  of  the  project  of  the  theatricals. 

"  We  have  not  decided  upon  a  play  as  yet. 
We  are  going  to  leave  that  to  Mrs.  Baylor's 
experience,"  Mrs.  Stanley  says. 

"  But  I  know  nothing  of  amateur  plays " 

Mary  begins.  Mrs.  Stanley's  husband  looks 
at  her.  He  never  interferes,  easy  as  it  would 
be  for  him  to  change  the  subject,  by  a  quick 
question.  Nor  does  Mrs.  Stanley.  She  de 
sires  it  understood  that  she  is  entertaining 
Mrs.  Baylor  professionally. 

"What  sort  do  you  know  about?"  the  pon 
derous  Jacob  asks,  with  a  playful  smile.  He  is 
thinking  that  you  can  tell  a  country  girl  wher 
ever  you  see  her.  This  combination  of  beauty 
and  simplicity  could  only  have  come  from 
Ellenbro'.  He  knows  Ellenbro'.  He  has  a 
railroad  and  a  big  farm  and  a  place  where  he 
goes  to  hunt  down  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

"  Oh,  the  real  ones.  I  was  an  actress,  or 
educated  for  an  actress,  before  I  married." 


112  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Mr.  Leland  looks  at  her  hard,  and  then  he 
says,  "  Did  you  like  it?  It's  a  hard  life,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,  to  people  who  have  been 

brought  up  differently,  but  to  me Oh, 

when  I  hear  people  saying  it  is  a  hard  life,  I 
always  think  of  that  poor  old  French  actress 
who,  when  she  \vas  dying,  confessed  to  the 
priest.  When  he  gave  her  absolution,  he 
said,  '  My  poor  daughter  !  What  a  miserable 
life  yours  has  been!'  And  she  began  to  cry, 
saying,  'What  happy  times  those  were  when  I 
was  so  miserable ! '  I  am  like  that  about  my 
acting."  She  has  forgotten  everything;  has 
forgotten  that  her  husband  does  not  like  to 
hear  of  those  old  days,  and  her  eyes  are 
bright. 

"  An  honest  little  woman,  by  Jove !"  the  big 
colonel  thinks. 

The  Honorable  Jacob  looks  at  her  and 
smiles,  while  Richard  Baylor  idly  twists  his 
wine  glass  round  and  round,  and  Reg's  face 
flushes  a  little. 

There   isn't   much   learned   talk.      Usually 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  113 

when  the  Honorable  Mr.  Leland  goes  out  to 
dinner  the  subjects  are  ponderous.  He  thinks, 
as  he  says  good  by  to  his  hostess,  that  he  never 
has  had  so  pleasant  an  evening,  and  he  tells  her 
so.  She  sees  in  his  eyes  that  she  may  ask  him 
to  dinner  in  Washington  in  the  fall ;  that  they 
are  going  to  be  friends  ;  and  she  thanks  Mrs. 
Baylor,  and  makes  up  her  mind  that  while 
they  are  down  here,  and  these  theatricals  are 
going  on,  and  there  will  be  no  consequences 
to  follow,  she  will  be  extra  civil  to  her. 

The  colonel  and  Mr.  Baylor  linger  in  the 
veranda  with  their  cigars. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  smoke,  my  young 
cousin,"  Mrs.  Stanley  says.  It  is  time  for 
everybody  to  go  home,  but  Richard  Baylor 
and  Mary  are  so  unaccustomed  to  civilized 
ways  that  it  seems  early  in  the  evening  to 
them,  and  the  example  of  the  great  man  no 
precedent  for  any  course  of  conduct.  "  You 
and  Mrs.  Baylor  are  going  to  talk  about  a 
play.  What  shall  it  be  ?  It  must  be  some 
thing  short  and  pretty."  Mary  has  been 
thinking. 


114  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  know  a  play,"  she  says,  "  that  I  think 
we  might  get.  It  was  written  for  a  '  curtain 
raiser '  by  a  young  artist  I  know,  and  has  only 
been  played  once  to  a  houseful  of  critics. 
They  were  enthusiastic  in  its  praise.  It  is 
short,  and  there  are  only  four  characters.  It 
is  a  seashore  play,  too."  A  dreamy  look 
came  into  her  eyes.  "  It  is  a  very  lovely, 
touching  little  story,"  she  added  quietly. 

"  What  is  it  like  ?  What  are  the  charac 
ters?  "  Mrs.  Stanley  was  looking  at  her, 
wondering  why  she  had  not  been  clever  enough 
to  go  on  with  her  stage  career.  There  was 
where  she  belonged.  There  was  where  she 
fitted  in.  That  was  the  life  for  her. 

"It  is  called  'Alice.'  It  opens  on  a  light 
house  during  a  storm,  or  just  after  a  storm.  A 
boat  containing  a  beautiful  young  woman  has 
been  dashed  ashore,  and  she  is  taken  up  by 
the  light  keeper,  cared  for  by  his  old  mother 
and  his  sweetheart.  The  light  keeper  falls  in 
love  with  her.  She  is  a  stranger  from  another 
world  to  him,  a  thing  to  be  worshiped ;  a 
gentle,  tender  thing  to  be  cared  for.  To  the 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  115 

woman — to  Alice — this  simple  place  is  a  haven 
of  rest.  She  wants  to  stay  there  forever,  but 
she  sees  that  she  has  brought  discord  into  the 
house,  and  she  goes,  first  telling  them  her  sad 
story." 

"  And  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  must  read  the  play.  I  cannot 
tell  it.  Telling  stories  is  not  my  gift." 

"  I  should  think  it  might  be,"  Mrs.  Stanley 
says  warmly. 

Mary  has  been  sitting  on  the  piano  stool, 
her  bare,  round  white  arm  laid  along  the  ivory 
keys,  which  look  old  and  yellow  beside  the 
pink  life  of  her  flesh.  There  is  a  lamp  with 
a  red  shade  behind  her  dark  head.  Reg  leans 
over  the  end  of  the  piano,  never  knowing, 
poor  boy,  how  much  he  is  showing  in  his  face. 

Mrs.  Stanley  is  thinking. 

"  Who  could  do  the  other  characters?  Are 
they  difficult  ?  " 

"  Which  are  the  others  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  will  do  Alice  and  Mr.  Court 
ney,  my  young  cousin,  Reginald  here,  will  be 
the  light  keeper." 


n6  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Mary  nods  approvingly.  She  can  see  Reg 
as  the  Nat  of  the  play  already.  She  looks  at 
him  judicially.  There  is  no  possible  self  con 
sciousness  in  her.  She  sees  only  the  possible 
actor.  Reg  would  hardly  be  flattered  could 
he  know  that  as  she  looks  at  him  she  sees  his 
dress  changed  to  the  rough  clothing  of  the 
young  light  keeper,  and  that  she  is  thinking 
that  he  will  look  the  part,  and  after  all,  for 
such  an  entertaiment  as  this,  that  is  the  prin 
cipal  thing.  Amateurs  are  not  expected  to 
act  by  any  one  except  their  nearest  friends, 
and  they  are  always  supposed  by  them  to  have 
succeeded.  To  Mary's  mind,  educated  profes 
sionally,  the  amateur  is  very  funny,  but  she  is 
too  politely  tactful  to  say  so.  And  she  herself 
has  been  away  from  it  all  so  long  that  she 
feels  doubtful  of  her  own  powers. 

"  The  character  of  the  mother  of  the  light 
keeper  is  a  beautiful  one.  A  plain,  sweet 
tempered,  simple  and  yet  wise  woman.  A 
character  that  deserves  careful  study.  I  should 
like  to  try  that  myself." 

"  But  you  are  to  be  Alice.     I  wonder " 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  117 

Mrs.  Stanley  put  her  teeth  upon  her  lower  lip 
and  let  her  eyes  gaze  into  vacancy,  while  she 
thought.  "  M — m — I'll  send  for  her  tomorrow. 
I  think  I  know  some  one  who  could  do  that 
part." 

"  Your  cousin  could  play  the  sweetheart," 
Mary  says,  looking  at  Reg.  His  face  has  been 
burning  a  little  with  excitement  all  the  even 
ing.  There  is  a  look  in  his  eyes  and  an  ex 
pression  about  his  mouth  that  is  new  born.  It 
is  incipent  intoxication,  caused  by  a  stimulant 
more  insidious  than  alcohol.  At  the  mention 
of  Edyth  the  color  goes  deeper. 

"  My  cousin  has  had  no  experience."  He 
wonders  if  Mary  is  trying  to  bring  Edyth  into 
the  play  through  any  motive  of  revenge,  and 
then  as  he  looks  into  her  candid,  interested 
eyes,  he  shames  himself  for  the  thought. 
There  is  no  lack  of  generosity  here.  And 
here,  too,  he  begins  to  have  a  glimmering 
sense  that  there  is  something  beside  personal 
ities  considered.  Here  is  the  mind  which  sees 
a  person  at  his  true  value  in  any  position, 
irrespective  of  likes  and  dislikes. 


Il8  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  coach  her.  Unless " 

she  looks  at  Mrs.  Stanley,  "  there  is  some  one 
else." 

Mrs.  Stanley  is  glad  to  placate  Mrs.  Court 
ney  by  the  suggestion  of  bringing  Edyth  into 
the  play.  She  judges  at  once  that  the  part  is 
small  and  insignificant  or  Mrs.  Baylor  would 
not  have  suggested  her  for  it.  And  so  it  is 
settled. 

Baylor  and  his  wife  and  Reg  go  home  along 
the  deserted  board  walk.  The  moon  is  making 
its  most  gorgeous  glittering  pathway  across 
the  sea.  The  solemnity  of  the  night  is  over 
them  all.  Baylor  is  thinking  that  Colonel 
Stanley  is  a  good  fellow,  and  with  half 
humorous  consciousness  of  his  own  short 
comings,  is  telling  himself  that  that  is  the 
sort  of  man  he  ought  to  associate  with.  It 
would  be  wholesome,  but  something  of  a  bore. 

Mary  is  dreaming  of  "  Alice."  As  she  looks 
at  the  sea  she  shudders  at  its  loneliness  to  one 
tossed  adrift  out  there  in  an  open  boat,  all 
alone.  She  involuntarily  grasps  her  husband's 
arm  a  little  tighter.  He  looks  down  into  her 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  119 

face  and  smiles  at  the  wistful  expression  with 
which  it  is  turned  up  to  his.  If  Reginald 
were  not  there  he  would  kiss  her,  but  making 
a  sentimental  scene  is  out  of  the  question.  It 
is  Mary  who  would  do  a  thing  like  that.  He 
presses  her  hand  on  his  sleeve  a  little  closer. 

As  for  Reg,  Reg  does  not  know  why,  but  he 
is  happy. 

Mrs.  Stanley  stands  before  the  mirror  in  her 
bed  room  and  takes  the  hairpins  out  of  her 
hair,  and  carefully  places  in  its  box  that  por 
tion  of  it  which  she  keeps  for  daily  wear. 

"  I  tell  you,"  she  says  to  her  husband,  as  she 
draws  the  brush  over  her  locks,  "that  woman 
is  making  the  greatest  mistake.  What  rest 
less,  silly  things  women  are  any  way.  Here 
are  society  women,  breaking  their  necks  and 
the  hearts  of  their  families  to  go  on  the  stage 
and  make  indifferent  actresses,  and  here  is  a 
woman  born  and  brought  up  in  the  life,  loving 
it  as  she  loves  nothing  else,  breaking  her  own 
heart  to  get  into  a  society  too  stupid  for  any 
body  to  stand.  We  are  all  like  Bluebeard's 
wives,  pounding  ever  at  the  one  locked  door." 


IX. 


"^VT'OU  ought  to  know  perfectly  well  that  I 
will  not  allow  Edyth  to  act  in  a  public 
hotel  with  that  woman ! "  Mrs.  Courtney  feels 
vicious.  "  Of  course  they  cannot  get  along 
without  her,  and  I  knew  that  Helen  Stanley 
would  see  that  she  could  not." 

Reginald  has  little  sense  of  humor,  and  he 
has  so  fine  an  appreciation  of  Edyth's  good 
qualities  that  his  mother's  remark  fell  upon 
what  would  seem  to  be  ears  unappreciative  of 
the  merits  of  the  situation.  Mrs.  Stanley 
would  think  so. 

"  The  suggestion "  Reginald  was  going 

to  say  that  the  suggestion  came  from  Mrs. 
Baylor,  but  he  thought  better  of  that  and  took 
his  coffee  instead.  The  play  had  come, 
brought  down  by  its  owner,  who  was  just 
starting  away  on  his  summer  holiday  when 

Mrs.    Baylor's   note   reached    him;    and    who, 
1 20 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  121 

with  the  easy  adjustment  of  the  artistic  tem 
perament,  changed  his  plans  in  half  an  hour 
and  came  to  Atlantic  City  instead.  He  was 
not  at  all  anxious  that  his  play  should  be  pro 
duced  by  amateurs,  but  he  was  fond  of  Mrs. 
Baylor  and  ready  to  be  good  natured,  and  as 
she  herself  was  to  personify  the  character  over 
which  he  had  labored,  and  which  he  loved,  he 
was  ready  to  hand  it  over  to  her.  He  was  an 
aggressive  looking  young  man,  with  keen  blue 
eyes,  covered  by  glasses,  the  rimless,  string- 
less  variety  which  look  as  though  they  had 
grown  on  the  face.  His  hair  was  parted  exactly 
in  the  middle  above  his  rather  pale  forehead, 
with  not  a  hair  awry,  and  his  mustache  was 
cut  straight  across,  as  though  an  end  might 
disgrace  its  owner  by  curling.  It  was  an  alert, 
firm  personality,  the  very  last  that  would  be 
expected  to  hold  poetic  fancies,  tender  fancies. 
And  yet  "Alice  "  seemed  to  have  been  dug  out 
of  a  woman's  heart. 

Mrs.  Stanley  forgot  Mrs.  Baylor's  descrip 
tion  of  the  play  as  he  was  introduced  to  her, 
and  gave  his  hand  an  unconventional  grip  and 


122  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

expected  a  comedy.  She  had  brought  along 
the  young  lady  who  had  been  sent  for  to  take 
the  part  of  the  mother.  She  had  been  vaguely 
chosen  because  she  had  taken  parts  in  amateur 
plays,  and  because  she  was  so  young  and 
blooming  that  she  could  not  possibly  be 
offended  or  regard  it  as  other  than  a  lark  to 
personate  an  old  woman.  She  looked  at  Reg 
with  eyes  that  were  a  little  inclined  toward 
audacity  when  Mrs.  Stanley  mentioned  that  he 
was  to  be  her  son.  The  rather  affected  man- 
nishness  of  her  dress  was  accented  by  her 
manner.  One  expected  her  to  take  off  her  hat 
when  she  came  into  the  room.  There  was  none 
of  the  solemnity  which  the  masculine  girl 
usually  bears  about  with  her,  as  though  she 
felt  it  her  duty  to  uphold  the  dignity  of  her 
adopted  sex.  She  was  rather  like  a  jolly  boy. 
When  Mr.  Covert,  the  playwriting  artist,  was 
introduced  to  her  as  "  Miss  Marshall,  the  young 
lady  who  is  to  play  the  mother,"  he  screwed 
up  his  near  sighted  eyes  without  any  attempt 
to  disguise  his  disgust. 

"  Don't  you  think    I    kin    play  with  yore 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  123 

doll  rags?"  she  asked  with  a  Yankee  drawl 
that  might  have  come  from  down  East. 

His  face  cleared  at  once.  "  You  can  talk  it, 
any  way,"  he  said.  "  But  how  in  the  mischief 
are  you  going  to  look  it  ?  " 

"I'll  attend  to  that.  But  say,  isn't  Mrs. 
Baylor  simply  gorgeous  ?  " 

"  That's  what  she  is !  You  just  ought  to 
hear  her  recite.  I  wouldn't  let  this  play  be 
acted  by  anybody  else  for  this  sort  of  thing. 
I've  worked  too  hard  over  it,  but  everything 
she  does  to  it  will  make  it  '  takier.'  She's 
great!" 

Notwithstanding  Mrs.  Courtney's  protests, 
Edyth  had  come  with  Reg  to  this  morning's 
reading  of  the  play.  She  felt  that  she  could 
not  let  Reg  get  as  far  away  from  her  as  he 
would  seem  by  going  into  this  work  and  play 
without  her.  She  was  a  little  stiff  and  cold, 
and  the  merry  chatter  of  talk  about  the  hotel 
parlor,  where  they  had  gathered,  left  her 
isolated.  She  had  nothing  to  say.  The  talk 
of  her  little  world  was  personal  and  local. 
This  was  personal,  but  it  was  not  local. 


124  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

The  reason  the  talk  of  people  who  travel  about 
and  live  in  a  large  world,  seems  so  much  wider, 
is  because  it  covers  more  area.  Essentially 
there  is  little  difference ;  the  habit  of  thought 
is  practically  the  same.  Cultivation  is  often 
only  the  knowledge  to  talk  about  more  things. 

Mrs.  Stanley  pounded  on  the  edge  of  the 
piano  with  the  stick  of  her  lorgnette. 

"  We  have  met  here  this  morning  to  read  a 
play  which  we  are  going  to  produce  here  in 
the  hotel  for  the  benefit  of  the  Seaside  Home 
for  Shop  Girls.  The  proprietor  has  kindly 
offered  us  the  use  of  the  dining  room  and  will 
arrange  a  stage  and  accessories." 

"You'll  need  a  kitchen  scene,"  the  author 
of  the  play  announced;  "a  cook  stove,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  No,  we  won't,"  Mrs.  Stanley  replied. 
"  We  are  going  to  pretend  that  the  acting  is  in 
the  sitting  room.  We  can  put  shells  and  things 
from  the  board  walk  stores  all  about." 

"  Pretend  !  "     And  the  author  sniffed. 

"  Never  mind,"  Mary  whispered.  "  I'll  see 
that  it's  all  right." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  125 

"  Mrs.  Baylor  will  read  the  play." 

It  was  a  charming,  pathetic  little  story,  and 
Mary's  voice  was  modulated  to  each  turn  of 
expression. 

"  My  !  "  said  the  girl  who  had  been  cast  for 
the  mother.  "  I  don't  know  but  it  would  be 
a  better  showing  to  have  Mrs.  Baylor  take  all 
the  parts.  I'm  awfully  glad  I  came  down. 
I'll  learn  a  lot  from  her.  Who  is  she,  any 
way  ?  " 

"  She  was  educated  for  an  actress,"  Covert 
said,  as  though  he  were  telling  that  she  was 
the  daughter  of  a  king. 

"Oh!"  The  Philadelphia  young  woman, 
notwithstanding  her  masculine  independence 
and  free  and  easy  manners,  looked  a  bit  uneasy. 
"  I  thought  Mrs.  Stanley  said  she  belonged  to 
one  of  the  old  Southern  families." 

"  Her  husband  does,  and  precious  little  good 
it  does  him.  She  is  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"I  thought "  but  the  Philadelphia  young 

lady  did  not  tell  what  she  thought.  She 
relapsed  into  silence. 

As   the   reading  went  on   and  on,  Edyth's 


126  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

face  took  on  a  deeper  and  a  deeper  color.  She 
was  not,  as  Mrs.  Stanley  imagined,  overcome 
by  the  impossibility  of  taking  creditably  the 
part  assigned  her,  but  she  was  stiff  with 
self  consciousness  as  she  saw  how  it  mirrored 
her  own  jealousy  in  the  country  girl  who  daily 
saw  her  lover  going  farther  and  farther  from  her 
in  his  admiration  for  the  beautiful  stranger. 
The  suspicions  of  the  girl  in  the  play,  which 
were  afterward  verified  by  Alice's  sad  story, 
brought  into  being  ugly  ideas  in  Edyth's  own 
mind  ;  ideas  which  she  was  honest  enough  to 
try  to  put  away  from  her.  She  looked  at 
Reg.  His  eyes  were  upon  Mary's  face.  He 
was  lost  in  the  story,  lost  in  the  tones  of  her 
voice,  and  a  pang  went  to  Edyth's  heart.  He 
was  hers,  but  only  as  this  other  girl's  lover  had 
been  hers. 

The  story  ended,  and  there  were  exclama 
tions  all  over  the  room.  Two  or  three  ladies, 
who  were  to  assist  at  the  entertainment,  had 
come  in,  and  there  was  a  soft  clapping  of 
hands.  Mary's  face  was  flushed,  too.  It  all 
sounded  so  kind.  She  knew  applause,  but 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  127 

this  was  different.  She  felt  that  perhaps 
after  all  she  was  going  to  like  these  kind 
people  who  belonged  to  her  husband's  old  life. 
Dolly  was  to  be  brought  up  in  all  this.  She 
felt  grateful  and  happy.  She  forgave  Mrs. 
Courtney — and  she  turned  away  from  con 
gratulations  and  plans  and  went  over  to  the 
window  where  Edyth  sat  in  overdressed 
loneliness. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said  with  light  hearted 
gaiety.  "  Don't  you  think  that  as  we  are  all 
here  in  the  hotel,  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to 
study  our  parts  together  ?  I  think  you  will  do 
Bessie  capitally." 

Edyth  turned  about  with  a  face  that  was 
almost  rigid. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  take  any  part  in 
the  play." 

Mrs.  Stanley  was  just  behind.  "  What 
gaucheric!"  she  said  to  herself.  "That  poor 
girl  might  have  been  brought  up  with  the 
cows  for  all  the  sense  she  has."  Sense  to  Mrs. 
Stanley  meant  social  tact. 

Mary  was  chilled  for  an  instant,  and  then  it 


128  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

looked  a  little  amusing.  She  turned  away. 
Reg  followed  her  and  never  knew  when  Edyth 
went  up  stairs.  The  part  of  Bessie  was  taken 
by  a  young  girl  in  the  family  where  Miss  Mar 
shall  was  visiting.  She  was  not  "out"  yet, 
her  mother  said,  but  it  was  Atlantic  City, 
where  everything  was  pardonable  except  being 
there — and  the  cause  was  a  charity.  She  was 
good  natured,  and  like  most  people  found  Mrs. 
Stanley's  pleadings  irresistible.  All  along  that 
lady  had  thought  Edyth  too  homely  for  the  part. 

"  It  wants  a  pretty  girl.  One  cannot  forgive 
an  ugly  girl  for  a  mistake." 

They  rehearsed  all  day  long.  The  play  was 
to  be  produced  in  five  days,  and  there  were 
costumes  to  be  prepared.  People  about  the 
hotel  talked  of  nothing  else,  and  they  looked 
upon  those  who  had  come  since  the  arrange 
ments  were  made  as  decidedly  new  people, 
who  had  no  real  part  in  the  festivities. 

Reg  lived  in  a  regular  fever.  There  was 
stiffness  and  discomfort  in  his  mother's  rooms, 
but  he  had  an  excellent  excuse  for  being  there 
as  little  as  possible.  Often  he  dined  or 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  129 

lunched,  and  once  even  breakfasted,  when 
they  were  going  to  have  an  early  rehearsal  and 
had  all  gathered  there,  at  Mrs.  Baylor's  table. 
Twice  Mrs.  Courtney  had  announced  that  they 
would  leave  the  next  day,  but  as  there  was  no 
response  from  Reg,  she  had  moved  her  flitting 
on  again.  One  night,  coming  in  late,  he  had 
found  Edyth  just  coming  out  of  their  common 
parlor  into  her  own  room  and  his  heart  smote 
him.  There  was  no  ill  temper  in  her  face,  but 
it  looked  unhappy. 

"Whither  away?"  he  said  lightly,  and  put 
ting  his  arm  about  her  shoulders  drew  her  back 
into  the  parlor.  Reg  felt  gay.  There  wras 
about  the  sunshine,  the  sky,  the  earth,  a  new 
glory.  He  had  thrown  himself  heart  and 
soul  into  the  production  of  the  little  play. 
He  laughed  at  the  squabbles  of  Covert  and 
Miss  Marshall,  and  he  had  a  brotherly  feeling 
for  the  very  young  and  very  pretty  girl  who 
had  taken  the  part  of  Bessie,  and  who  had  to 
be  constantly  restrained  as  to  costume.  Her 
idea  of  the  dress  of  a  country  lass  was  a  gay 
wash  silk  gowrn  and  a  lace  and  ribbon  apron. 


130  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

The  days  ran  by  and  the  eventful  night 
came  at  last.  A  back  stairway  used  by  the 
servants  was  given  over  to  the  actors.  Mrs. 
Baylor  is  in  her  room  putting  on  the  yachting 
dress  which  is  to  be  her  costume ;  the  dress  in 
which  Alices  husband  had  turned  her  adrift  in 
an  open  boat  upon  the  sea,  as  a  punishment 
for  loving  another  man.  She  has  her  long 
hair  down  and  is  carefully  dipping  the  ends  of 
the  strands  into  toilet  water  to  give  it  the  look 
of  just  emerging  from  the  briny  deep,  when 
there  is  a  knock  at  her  door.  She  thinks  it  is 
her  husband  and  calls  out  "  Entrez"  but  the 
knock  is  repeated.  She  goes  to  the  door  and 
throws  it  open,  and  sees  Reginald  Courtney 
standing  there  in  his  light  keeper's  costume. 

The  corduroy,  the  flannel  shirt  open  at  the 
neck,  the  sou'  wester  hat,  all  suit  his  manly 
figure  and  rugged  face.  Mary  forgets  her 
frillery  of  dressing  sack  and  her  hair  on  her 
shoulders,  and  looks  at  him  admiringly. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  says  in  con 
fusion.  "  I  thought — this  was  your  parlor  door. 
How  could  I  have  made  such  a  mistake?" 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  131 

"  It's  of  no  consequence.  You'll  have  to 
come  in  here  any  way  to  be  made  up.  Dick 
and  Dolly  are  playing  ou  the  lounge.  Come 
along  in."  And  in  he  goes. 

All  over  the  dressing  table  are  strewn 
bottles  of  cosmetic  and  sticks  of  grease  paint 
in  confusion.  Everything  is  in  disorder,  but 
it  is  a  perfumery,  pretty  disarray.  Baylor  half 
rises  from  his  romp  with  the  baby  to  greet  Reg 
as  he  sits  down  to  be  manipulated,  and  then 
returns  to  the  frolic  with  the  child. 

"  Turn  your  face  away  from  the  glass," 
Mary  says.  "  I  want  you  to  be  astonished 
when  you  see  yourself."  And  then  she  goes 
to  work  with  the  paints  and  sponges  until 
Reg  feels  as  though  his  face  is  being  turned 
into  a  mask;  but  every  touch  of  her  finger 
tips  sends  a  little  shiver  over  him.  They  are 
very  light  and  quite  by  chance  touches  she 
makes  the  material  lay  itself  on,  but  her  face  is 
close  to  his.  He  can  see  the  fine  texture  of  her 
rosy  skin,  and  the  way  her  lashes  curl  back. 

Baylor  gets  up,  and  taking  Dolly  on  his  arm, 
goes  into  the  parlor. 


132  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Wait  one  minute.  I  want  to  see  if  Dick 
is  going  out,"  and  she  runs  after  him. 

There  are  dozens  of  trifling  little  trinkets 
lying  about  on  the  table.  Reg  thinks  he 
must  have  something  of  hers,  something  that 
belongs  to  her.  There  is  a  little  scarlet  sea 
bean  locket,  the  mounting  gilt,  a  trifle  worth 
fifty  cents,  perhaps  upon  some  long  past  day 
when  it  was  a  fad  to  own  such  a  thing.  Before 
she  comes  back,  he  has  stuck  it  in  his  pocket. 
He  feels  like  a  thief  one  instant,  and  like  a 
knight  wearing  a  lady's  token  the  next,  and 
he  glories  in  his  sensations.  Real  sensations 
are  so  new  to  Reg. 

He  is  allowed  to  look  at  himself,  bedight 
with  the  paint  which  the  footlights  will  soften, 
better  looking  than  he  ever  was  in  his  life. 
Mary  looks  over  his  shoulder,  delighted  with 
her  handiwork.  The  door  has  been  left  open 
in  the  corridor  only  a  few  inches,  but  those 
inches  give  full  upon  the  two  figures  standing 
before  the  mirror.  Some  one  comes  along  the 
corridor,  but  neither  hears. 

"  See  here,"  Mary  cries.    "  You've  got  your 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  133 

hair  wrong."  She  seizes  a  brush  and  sets  it 
right  just  as  Edyth  passes — half  stops — and 
then  blind  with  disgust  and  rage  and  mortifi 
cation  at  what  she  sees,  goes  flying  on  into  her 
own  room  to  throw  herself  on  the  bed  and 
choke  her  sobs  in  the  pillow. 

When  Mrs.  Courtney  comes  in  a  few  minutes 
later  to  say  in  a  resigned  tone  that  she  sup 
poses  as  Reg  is  to  take  part  in  the  play,  there 
is  nothing  for  them  to  do  but  to  go  down  and 
see  it,  unless  they  want  to  set  every  tongue 
wagging,  and  she  thinks  Edyth  had  better 
wear  her  pink  striped  silk  with  the  dark  red 
velvet  sleeves,  she  finds  her  future  daughter 
in  law  in  bed  with  her  head  tied  up  in  a  wet 
towel  and  barely  voice  enough  to  say  that  she 
has  a  frightful  headache. 

"  It's  all  on  account  of  the  sun  on  the  water. 
I  knew  it  !  "  Mrs.  Courtney  says.  "  We 
certainly  shall  leave  here  tomorrow.'1'1  And 
then  she  goes  bustling  back  with  various  doses, 
all  of  which  Edyth  meekly  swallows,  only  too 
glad  to  be  let  alone  at  any  price.  She  begs 
Mrs.  Courtney  not  to  miss  the  play,  and  after 


134  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

an  hour's  dressing  she  is  finally  off  down  stairs, 
hot  and  creaking  in  her  tight  silk  harness,  her 
husband  meekly  following  in  her  wake. 

Edyth  can  hear  the  band,  can  hear  the  gay 
parties  trooping  down  stairs,  and  then  can  hear 
the  clapping  as  the  curtain  goes  up.  There  is 
dead  silence  then  for  what  seems  to  her  hours. 
She  wonders  if  it  is  a  failure,  and  some  way 
that  seems  to  lighten  the  awful  burden  just  a 
trifle,  and  then — there  is"  applause  that  fairly 
rocks  the  house  again  and  again.  They  are 
bowing  their  thanks  down  there,  Mary  radiant, 
because  the  gift  that  is  in  her  has  not  grown 
dull  with  disuse.  Reg,  with  her  hand  in  his, 
and  that  guilty  little  red  locket  in  his  pocket, 
is  not  conscious  enough  of  his  state  to  know 
that  the  realization  of  his  love  will  never 
come,  and  is  happy.  Up  stairs  Edyth  turns 
her  face  to  the  wall  with  fresh,  smarting  tears. 


X. 

1\  /["  AR Y  had  looked  forward  so  long  to  this 
home  coming  at  Ellenbro'.  She  had 
pictured  in  her  mind  the  big,  old  fashioned 
Southern  house,  with  its  wide  hallway  and 
long  verandas,  and  sunny  slopes  of  garden. 
She  had  seen  places,  not  grand  places,  but 
sweet,  old  fashioned  homes  here  and  there  in 
her  wandering  about,  and  she  had  always 
dreamed  of  some  time  living  in  one.  But 
Castle  Hill  is  not  the  home  of  Mary's  dreams. 
It  is  an  old  house,  but  instead  of  standing  like 
a  stately  queen  on  a  hill  top,  overlooking  her 
glad  domain,  the  early  Baylor  who  conceived 
this  mansion  built  it  under  the  hill  instead  of 
on  top,  with  an  idea  of  sheltering  the  inmates. 
Its  brick  foundation  has  kept  it  damp,  and  the 
old  vines  which  cling  about  its  walls,  and 
send  strong  shoots  into  the  windows,  give  it  a 
vault-like  feelin. 


136  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

The  little  station  in  Ellenbro'  had  not  been 
the  pretty  country  stopping  place  she  had  ex 
pected,  but  a  big,  dirty  "  depot,"  crowded  with 
curious  loafers.  There  was  no  one  to  meet 
them,  and  the  only  vehicle  which  could  take 
them  to  their  own  roof  tree  was  an  old  coupe, 
dingy  and  hot,  which  hung  about  the  station 
in  rain  or  shine,  its  horse  drooping  and  its 
driver  asleep  inside. 

But  none  of  these  things  daunted  Mary's 
happy  spirits.  She  was  going  home!  The 
old  home  of  Richard,  the  home  that  was  to  be 
Dolly's.  As  they  drive  in  at  the  gateway  she 
cannot  believe  that  this  can  be  the  home  she 
has  dreamed  of.  It  has  been  in  her  mind's 
eye  so  long  as  something  so  different.  As  they 
rattled  up  the  driveway,  bordered  on  each  side 
by  ragged  syringa  bushes  and  with  gloomy  old 
Norway  firs  bordering  the  lane,  she  could  not 
believe  at  first  that  this  was  the  place. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  Baylor  said,  leaning  out, 
and  looking  at  the  old  house.  It  had  bored 
him  tremendously  in  the  old  days;  bored  him 
so  much  that  he  had  gone  away  and  left  it  all 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  137 

— all  the  darkness  and  closeness  and  conven 
tional  narrowness ;  shaken  the  dust  from  his 
feet;  but  now  coming  back  it  held  for  him 
something  of  the  glamour  of  his  boyhood.  The 
world  that  he  had  dreamed  of  then  had  not 
turned  out  such  a  great  thing  after  all,  and 
now  he  was  coming  back  with  wife  and  child, 
it  seemed  as  pleasant  a  place  as  any. 

"  I've  no  doubt  it  will  be  charming."  Mary- 
had  thought  of  herself  as  clasping  her  hands 
and  exclaiming  with  delight  when  she  saw  the 
house,  but  that,  like  so  many  anticipations, 
had  faded  before  the  reality.  They  had  gone 
into  the  narrow,  long,  lofty  rooms  and  had 
interviewed  the  two  old  servants  who  had 
stayed  as  caretakers.  They  were  tired  out. 
A  chill  little  wind  had  come  up  from  some 
where  and  the  rooms  had  an  odor  of  mildew. 

Mr.  Baylor  put  his  hands  in  his  trousers' 
pockets  and  walked  about  the  room,  looking 
at  everything.  It  was  all  so  familiar  and  yet 
so  strange.  It  had  been  another  person,  a 
fresh,  inexperienced  boy  who  had  taken  this 
into  his  young  memory,  a  memory  that  had 


138  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

jostled  the  picture  of  these  old  rooms  with 
strange  company  since  then. 

"What  is  there  for  dinner?"  he  asked  the 
tall  negro  woman  who  had  let  them  in. 

"  Ain't  you  done  had  no  dinner?  I  was 
'lowin'  to  give  you  a  mess  o'  fried  chicken  fer 
supper." 

"That's  all  right.  Call  it  what  you've  a 
mind  to,"  Baylor  said  good  naturedly.  "  Only 
hurry  it  up.  I'm  hungry." 

"  Build  a  fire  in  here,  at  once,"  Mary  said. 
"  Dolly  will  catch  her  death  of  cold,"  she 
added  as  she  saw  the  blank  astonishment  on 
the  woman's  face  at  the  idea  of  wanting  a  fire 
in  the  middle  of  summer.  "  It  smells  musty, 
too — ugh ! " 

She  went  to  the  windows  and  threw  them 
up. 

"  Finical  Yankee!"  Cynthia  muttered  as  she 
went  out.  "  Throwin'  up  the  windows  an' 
wantin'  a  fire  laid  right  here  in  August. 
Never  shook  hands  with  a  body,  nor  said 
nothin' ! " 

Mary's  heart  was  sick  with  disappointment. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  139 

Presently  Cynthia's  husband,  Bob,  came  in 
with  a  basket  of  wood  and  laid  a  large  fire, 
which  was  soon  roaring  up  the  chimney  until 
the  room  was  unbearable. 

"  They  are  not  accustomed  to  anything  but 
winter  fires  down  here,"  Baylor  said.  The 
wind  came  tearing  down  the  wide  chimney 
and  swept  smoke  and  ashes  out  into  the  room 
in  a  choking  cloud. 

Mary  took  Dolly  by  the  hand  and  went  up 
stairs  to  investigate.  The  house  was  an  old 
one,  without  any  of  the  modern  improvements. 
It  had  been  hastily  got  ready  by  the  two 
negroes  who  had  served  its  former  owner,  but 
there  had  been  no  careful  hand  to  see  that  it 
was  made  habitable.  Miss  Baylor  had  not  felt 
that  it  came  within  her  duties  when  Richard 
had  not  written  to  her  of  his  coming. 

At  the  supper  table,  where  the  tall,  cross 
looking  woman  waited,  Baylor  tried  to  eat  the 
chicken  and  put  it  back  on  the  plate. 

"  When  was  this  fowl  killed  ? "  he  asked 
with  suspicious  calmness. 

"  This  afternoon,  sir." 


140  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"Just  as  I  thought.  Understand,  will  you, 
that  no  fowl  is  to  come  to  this  table  that  has 
not  been  hung  up  at  least  three  days." 

The  woman  had  been  housekeeper  for  years 
and  had  been  absolute  ruler. 

"  You  didn't  send  word "  she  began,  but 

there  was  a  look  in  Baylor's  face  which 
silenced  her. 

Dolly,  tired,  began  to  cry,  deepening  the  line 
in  her  father's  forehead.  Mary  quietly  arose 
and  fook  her  up  stairs. 

"I  wants  to  do  home!"  the  baby  sobbed, 
and  as  Mary  put  her  to  bed  there  were  tears  in 
her  own  eyes  as  she  echoed  the  wish. 


XL 


TN  Ellenbro'  everybody  knows  everybody 
else.  In  the  summer  evenings  young  girls 
in  pretty,  light  dresses,  whose  outline  holds 
some  suggestion  of  the  mode  prevailing  in  the 
centers  of  civilization,  but  whose  detail  is 
painfully  lacking,  walk  from  lawn  to  lawn  and 
talk  of  the  two  new  topics  of  interest.  Edyth 
Smith  is  engaged  to  Reginald  Courtney,  and 
the  Richard  Baylors  have  come  to  the  old 
Baylor  place. 

"  They  say  "  (how  many  times  "  they 
say  "  does  drop  from  the  lips  !  It  makes  one 
think  of  the  endless  sequences  that  may  be 
made  out  of  a  cribbage  hand,  by  different  com 
binations  of  the  same  cards)  "  that  Mrs.  Baylor 
is  awfully  pretty,  and "  And  then  eye 
brows  are  lifted.  "  Cynthia  " — everybody 
knows  Cynthia — "  says  that  you  could  tell  that 

she  wasn't  'quality'  by  her  airs."     And  then 
141 


142  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

the  further  tale  of  Cynthia  was  told;  how 
Miss  Baylor  had  come  to  call  and  found  Regi 
nald  Courtney  there  helping  Mrs.  Baylor 
unpack  her  dresses.  There  was  a  little  grain 
of  pleasure  to  these  young  girls — sweet,  gentle, 
young  girls  who  were  not  engaged — in  the 
picture  of  Edyth  Smith's  lover  being  fastened 
at  Mrs.  Baylor's  chariot  wheels.  They  couldn't 
imagine  what  any  man  could  see  in  Edyth 
Smith,  except,  of  course,  her  money.  His 
mother  had  made  the  match,  no  doubt ;  every 
body  had  always  known  that  she  would  do  it 
if  she  could.  Edyth  was  a  sweet  girl,  of 
course,  and  a  good  girl,  but  she  certainly  was 
stupid. 

As  for  Mrs.  Baylor,  everybody  was  anxious 
and  waiting  to  see  her.  Nobody  felt  like  going 
to  call,  just  at  first.  They  would  all  wait  and 
see  what  would  happen.  Ladies  looked  at 
each  other  a  little  significantly,  and  said  they 
would  wait  until  Mrs.  Baylor  had  finished  her 
unpacking. 

None  of  this  unpacking  episode  conies  to 
Edyth's  ears  just  now.  Mrs.  Courtney  has 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  143 

heard  it,  but  she  is  beginning  to  have  a  rather 
uneasy  feeling  about  this  engagement.  She 
thinks  it  would  not  be  well  to  harrow  Edyth's 
feelings.  Young  men  will  be  young  men,  and 
when  Reg  is  safely  married  he  will  be  like  all 
the  rest.  The  thing  to  do  now  is  to  announce 
the  engagement  far  and  wide,  to  bring  in  all 
the  kin  to  congratulate,  to  tie  Reg  by  a  thou 
sand  ties  of  obligation,  and  to  marry  him  and 
Edyth  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  It  be 
hooves  her  in  the  mean  time  to  keep  Mrs. 
Baylor  from  entering  any  place  where  it  would 
be  likely  that  Reg  would  meet  her.  With  the 
usual  short  vision  that  belongs  to  womankind, 
she  does  not  see  that  by  this  means  she  gives 
him  more  opportunity  to  see  Mrs.  Baylor  in 
her  own  home. 

Before  any  real  hostility  has  time  to  show 
itself,  Ellenbro'  is  the  center  of  a  small  excite 
ment.  Ellenbro'  is  the  county  seat,  and  this 
is  the  year  of  a  presidential  election.  The 
prospective  governor  of  the  State  is  a  relative 
of  many  of  the  Ellenbro'  people,  a  distant 
cousin  to  the  Courtneys.  He  is  coming  to 


144  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

speak,  and  with  him  are  to  be  a  number  of 
politicians  from  the  Eastern  cities — among 
them  a  man  of  "  magnetism,"  who  has  barely 
escaped  the  great  nomination  himself.  The 
town  is  full — full  with  everybody,  from  the 
countryman  in  his  big  wagon,  filled  with 
straw,  bed  quilts,  and  children,  to  the  "  cousins  " 
from  the  great  places  up  the  river.  Everybody 
has  come  to  hear  the  speeches,  with  the  Southern 
love  for  oratory,  and  the  town  is  lively  and  gay. 
It  is  at  this  time  that  some  enterprising 
citizeness  sees  a  grand  opportunity  of  "  boom 
ing"  the  hospital.  Now  there  never  are  in 
Ellenbro'  any  sick  people  who  have  not  rela 
tives  and  friends  enough  to  take  care  of  them, 
and  carry  them  food  which  the  family  and 
servants  eat,  and  stand  on  the  outside  of  the 
door  and  ask  in  penetrating  whispers  "  how  they 
are  today."  But  Ellenbro'  is  beginning  to 
look  about  and  notice  the  tricks  and  manners 
of  other  towns,  and  a  hospital  seems  to  be  a 
fashionable  adornment  for  a  place  of  its  size. 
Edyth  Smith  has  given  three  hundred  dollars 
toward  it,  and  is  an  authority  to  consult.  She 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  1 45 

gives  her  voice  in  favor  of  a  garden  party  to  be 
held  on  the  day  of  the  speeches.  People 
would  come  there  for  supper — dinner  is  served 
at  half  past  one  in  Bllenbro' — and  then  again 
at  night  for  ice  cream. 

The  lawn  of  one  of  the  prominent  citizens, 
a  first  cousin  of  the  governor  elect,  was  chosen 
for  its  size  and  central  location.  Tables  and 
booths  were  put  up  all  over  it,  and  pretty  girls 
in  capes  and  aprons  were  set  behind  them. 
Edyth  took  charge  of  a  candy  table.  It  had 
been  her  own  choice,  although  half  a  dozen 
prettier  girls  had  wondered  at  her  audacity  in 
getting  in  among  those  ribbons  and  boxes  of 
many  colors.  They  had  said  so  to  each  other, 
but  it  had  struck  none  of  them  to  mention  it 
to  Edyth  herself. 

There  are  very  few  people  there  for  supper ; 
only  business  men  whose  wives  are  interested 
in  the  hospital,  and  who  know  that  there  is 
no  prospect  of  food  at  home  ;  and  the  rector 
of  the  parish,  and  a  few  old  ladies.  The 
young  girls  behind  the  tables  stand  nervously 
—waiting.  They  have  all  taken  Edyth's 


146  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

hand  and  congratulated  her  in  set  terms  upon 
her  engagement.  There  has  been  none  of  the 
girl  talk  which  would  have  flowed  apace  had 
one  of  themselves  become  engaged.  Edyth's 
money,  and  her  constant  overlooking  by  Mrs. 
Courtney,  have  in  a  measure  set  her  apart 
from  the  other  girls.  There  is  a  lack  which 
she  feels,  but  she  knows  no  way  to  over 
come  it. 

But  later,  after  the  speeches  are  over  in  the 
evening,  the  place  begins  to  fill  up.  It  looks 
very  bright  with  the  Japanese  lanterns  among 
the  trees,  and  people  in  gay  gowns  walking 
about  and  sitting  at  little  tables  on  the  green 
lawn.  The  moon  that  had  lightened  up  every 
thing  at  Atlantic  City  is  an  old  moon  now, 
waxing  thin,  and  taking  its  time  about  coming 
up,  but  the  headlights  of  locomotives  and  many 
candles  and  lamps  have  taken  its  place,  though 
they  leave  plenty  of  dark,  sequestered  nooks. 

Mrs.  Courtney  had  gone  to  supper,  and  then 
to  hear  the  speeches,  expecting  to  find  Regi 
nald  and  bring  him  with  her.  She  comes 
back  a  little  put  out,  with  only  the  general— 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  147 

bland  and  good  natured,  with  his  perpetual 
air  of  thinking  about  something  else,  princi 
pally  his  ancestors — as  her  companion.  Edyth 
stands  half  proud  and  half  ready  to  cry,  her 
disappointment  is  so  keen.  Poor  girl !  This 
is  no  sort  of  an  engagement  at  all,  when  she 
has  to  stand  and  wonder  what  her  sweetheart 
is  going  to  do  next.  She  knows  enough  about 
the  conventional  engaged  girl  to  know  that 
she  is  usually  for  that  time,  if  never  again  in 
her  life,  the  center  of  her  little  world,  the 
queen  from  whose  throne  commands  may  flow. 
Edyth  is  becoming  more  and  more  uncom 
fortable,  and  Mrs.  Courtney  is  growing  de 
cidedly  angry.  The  band  has  come  up  from 
the  big  wooden  "wigwam"  where  the  speeches 
have  been  made,  escorting  the  carriages  which 
hold  the  heroes  of  the  hour.  "See  the  Con 
quering  Hero  Comes"  has  been  exhausted  long 
ago,  and  the  strains  of  "After  the  Ball" — con 
sidered  modish  in  Ellenbro' — are  wafted  over 
the  lawn.  Edyth  leaves  her  booth  at  Mrs. 
Courtney's  command  and  begins  a  slow  prom 
enade  about  the  paths,  on  General  Courtney's 


148  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

other  arm.  They  are  just  turning  the  corner 
where  the  table  has  been  spread  for  the  refresh 
ment  of  the  distinguished  guests,  when — there 
before  them,  laughing  and  talking,  having  the 
very  best  imaginable  time — caring  not  in  the 
least  for  the  Courtneys,  Ellenbro',  or  its  world, 
is  Mrs.  Richard  Baylor. 

On  one  side  of  her  is  a  young  man,  and  on 
the  other  an  old  one,  both  equally  solicitous, 
and  equally  ready  to  look  when  she  looks  and 
see  as  she  sees.  One  is  the  cabinet  officer  of 
the  day,  and  the  other  is  Reginald  Courtney. 

There  is  a  whole  artillery  of  anger  going  off 
in  Edyth's  heart.  She  feels  the  blood  fairly 
tearing  through  her  veins,  but  she  says  never 
a  word.  She  has  a  feeling  toward  Mrs.  Baylor 
that  is  almost  pitiful.  She  hates  her,  and  she 
dreads  her,  and  she  does  not  think  she  is  a  good 
woman,  but  she  feels  ready  enough  to  let  her 
alone,  if  only  she  may  be  left  to  enjoy  her 
little  world.  "  With  so  many,"  Edyth  thinks, 
"  she  might  let  Reg  alone."  To  chide  Reg, 
to  send  him  away,  is  beyond  her  power. 

"  Why  !  "  the  general  begins,  but  he  gets  no 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  149 

farther  than  his  exclamation.  There  is  a 
pressure  upon  his  arm  which  seems  to  draw 
his  eyes.  There  has  been  telegraphed  to  his 
inner  consciousness  the  information  that  he  is 
not  to  look  in  Mrs.  Baylor's  direction.  All 
three  of  them  stalk  solemnly  by. 

They  are  past  before  Reg  realizes  who  it  is; 
and  then  he  starts — he  half  starts,  or  he  half 
begins  to  start — after  them.  But  they  have 
seemed  so  utterly  unconscious  of  any  one's 
presence  that  his  thick  masculine  sense  believes 
they  did  not  see  him.  Mrs.  Baylor  is  just  tell 
ing  such  a  clever  story — or  is  it  just  one  of 
her  crisp  sentences?  He  hardly  knows.  He 
only  knows  that  she  is  looking  up  at  the  dis 
tinguished  visitor  in  such  a  way  that  he  can 
not  bear  to  leave  him  to  take  it  in  all  alone. 
His  people  have  gone  on.  He  will  join  them 
presently,  and  he  lingers,  listening  and  looking. 

It  never  occurs  to  the  distinguished  visitor 
that  he  is  not  talking  to  the  most  popular 
woman  on  the  ground,  and  it  is  not  occurring 
to  Reg  that  he  is  not  by  any  means  assisting 
Mrs.  Baylor's  popularity.  The  distinguished 


150  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

visitor  knows  a  pretty  woman  when  he  sees 
one.  He  has  heard  that  this  one  is  a  Baylor, 
and  has  immediately  asked  for  an  introduction 
to  her.  Reg  has  been  standing  there,  and  as 
he  knows  her,  and  no  one  else  does,  it  has  been 
for  him  to  offer  to  present  the  guest.  Ten 
minutes  later,  Mary  is  walking  about  the  lawn 
on  the  arm  of  the  guest  of  the  city,  with  all 
Ellenbro'  looking  on. 


XII. 

TV/TR.  BAYLOR  had  stood  looking  about 
him  after  the  distinguished  visitor  had 
been  introduced  to  his  wife  and  had  shaken 
his  own  hand  with  the  firm  and  cordial  clasp 
of  the  politician.  The  whole  thing  rather 
bored  him.  He  had  come  because  he  had 
within  him  the  determination  to  show  people 
that  his  wife  had  no  shrinking  in  regard  to  her 
new  position ;  that  he  was  proud  of  her  and  meant 
to  sustain  the  place  to  which  she  was  entitled. 
Then,  too,  the  sight  of  Ellenbro'  society  was 
a  comedy  to  him.  He  thought  several  times, 
as  he  had  often  thought  in  the  theaters  he 
frequented,  that  it  was  a  comedy  whose  color 
ing  and  setting  could  be  changed  to  advantage. 
Baylor  had  ideas  of  playwriting  himself.  It 
was  in  the  vague  and  desultory  studies  that  he 
was  making  for  that  play  which  never  was  and 
never  would  be  written,  that  he  first  met  Mary. 
151 


152  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  The  material  is  here,  I  suppose.  Now 
there  is  a  figure "  Baylor  put  on  his  eye 
glasses  and  looked  again.  Then  he  took  them 
off,  and  stood  fumbling  with  them  while  his 
wife  talked,  with  a  queer,  abstracted  smile  on 
his  impassive  face.  Then  he  put  them  up  and 
went  slowly  across  the  lawn. 

Standing  by  a  tree  and  talking  to  two  or 
three  old  ladies,  with  a  look  of  interest  upon 
her  blonde  face,  was  a  woman  past  her  first 
youth,  but  with  a  certain  daintiness  that  would 
always  be  charming.  She  was  very  simply 
gowned,  in  the  usual  Ellenbro'  cut  of  garments, 
but  while  there  was  none  of  that  elusive  quality 
called  style,  of  which  Mary  Baylor  owned  such 
an  abundance,  there  was  a  sweetness  of  de 
meanor  that  seemed  to  make  up  for  any  lack 
of  purely  material  things.  Her  hair  was  too 
light  to  show  any  hint  of  gray,  and  there  was 
almost  a  virginal  look  in  her  eyes.  Richard 
Baylor  stopped  before  her.  She  gave  a  little 
start,  the  color  flashing  up  in  her  smooth 
cheeks,  and  impulsively  her  hand  went  out  to 
meet  his. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  153 

"How  do  you  do" — there  was  the  most 
trifling  pause — "  Mr.  Baylor  ?  It  is  a  pleasure 
to  see  an  old  friend  after  all  these  years."  The 
voice  was  as  silky  as  the  hair. 

The  smile  was  still  on  Baylor's  face.  "  It 
seems  like  yesterday,"  he  said.  The  heads  of 
the  two  old  ladies  were  almost  together,  and 
their  black  gloved  fingers  touched  each  other 
under  the  lace  of  their  capes.  They  remembered 
when  Dick  Baylor  and  Nannie  Vance  were 
boy  and  girl  sweethearts.  It  only  seemed  like 
yesterday;  and  here  was  she,  a  widow  these 
half  dozen  years,  and  Dick  Baylor  just  home 
with  his  young  wife. 

It  was  of  this  young  wife  that  Mrs.  Rogers 
spoke  at  once.  She  was  not  the  woman  to 
ignore  any  of  the  minor  conventionalities.  "I 
hope  you  will  introduce  me  to  Mrs.  Baylor. 
I  see  she  is  making  quite  an  impression  upon 
our  great  man.  She  is  very  pretty.  I  be 
lieve  " — she  looked  up  and  laughed  with  an 
infantile  glance  and  a  glimpse  of  little,  white 
teeth — "  you  always  liked  pretty  women." 

"  Yes,"  Baylor  said,  still  with  that  smile. 


154  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"And  clever?  You  always  liked  clever 
women,  too." 

He  had  never  given  much  thought  to  the 
question  whether  Mary  was  clever  or  not.  He 
never  cared.  In  his  heart  he  rather  thought 
she  was,  but  in  his  mind  he  rather  thought  she 
wasn't.  Clever — yes,  for  her  world,  but  hardly 
for  this  one. 

But  Mrs.  Rogers  was  clever.  One  was 
never  allowed  to  forget  that  fact.  She  had 
been  clever  in  her  soft,  purring  way  when  she 
had  said  good  by  to  Dick  Baylor,  the  rather 
erratic  boy,  and  married  Mr.  Rogers,  who 
owned  the  large  factory  across  the  river.  Dick 
had  carried  off  his  disappointment — if  he  felt 
any — so  easily  that  in  Ellenbro',  where  women 
make  public  opinion,  and  where  they  are  loath 
to  let  another  woman  have  one  sweetheart  of 
her  own,  much  less  two,  he  was  never  looked 
upon  as  a  jilted  man.  It  would  have  made  little 
difference  to  him,  as  the  verdict  of  Ellenbro' 
was  of  small  consequence  one  way  or  another. 

Now,  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Rogers  looking  at 
him  with  Nannie  Vance's  old  manner,  there 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  155 

was  no  wounded  vanity  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
his  greeting.  He  was  honestly  glad  to  look 
over  this  almost  unchanged  page  out  of  his  old 
life.  To  be  sure,  he  had  forgotten  it — almost 
entirely.  Nannie  Vance  had  been  no  factor  in 
his  home  coming,  but  he  accepted,  in  his  usual 
lazy  fashion,  the  goods  that  the  gods  sent. 

"  I  never  liked  a  stupid  woman,  surely.  I 
never  knew  many."  He  looked  about  the 
grounds.  Many  of  the  faces  were  those  he  had 
seen  from  infancy,  and  there  was  little  change 
to  his  eyes.  There  was  some  dust  in  them, 
perhaps,  from  years  and  indifference,  and  he 
hardly  saw  things  as  clearly  as  he  once  had 
seen  them.  Age  is  after  all  a  mere  matter  of 
comparison. 

"  No,  you  never  knew  Ellenbro'  very  well," 
Mrs.  Rogers  said  sedately.  "  You  never 
would.  And  have  you  come  back  to  the  old 
place  to  live?" 

It  was  all  the  quietest  of  talk. 

Mary,  meanwhile,  walked  about  the  lawn 
with  Reginald  and  the  guest.  The  guest  of 
the  hour  walking  with  as  pretty  and  charming 


156  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

a  woman  as  Mrs.  Baylor,  naturally  formed  a 
sort  of  nucleus.  Gentlemen  came  up  to  speak 
to  the  honorable,  and  stayed  to  talk  to  the 
newcomer.  It  was  all  so  gay  and  pleasant. 
She  looked  around  at  the  others  who  walked 
and  sat  about,  and  she  saw  the  glances  that 
came  her  way.  She  also  saw  that  she  wore  the 
only  gown  there  whose  outline  was  modish. 
In  Mary  there  were,  and  always  would  be,  the 
instincts  of  the  actress.  An  audience  keyed 
her  up.  She  played  to  it  as  unconsciously 
as  a  flower  opens  to  the  sunlight.  She  felt  the 
glances  and  the  comments  that  were  all  about 
her,  and  her  face  took  on  its  merriest  lines  and 
her  voice  its  gayest  notes. 

It  has  not  escaped  her  keen  vision  that  Mrs. 
Courtney  and  Edyth  have  gone  by  with  un 
seeing  eyes.  There  has  been  a  little  color  that 
has  grown  warm  in  her  cheeks  as  she  sees  it. 
She  wants  to  turn  to  Reg  and  tell  him  to  go 
back  to  his  own  people;  and  then  she  blames 
herself  for  uncharitableness.  How  can  the 
boy  help  that  his  people  are  illbred  and  stiff? 
She  knows  that  it  must  mortify  him,  and 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  157 

she  gives  him  an  extra  kind  look  to  make  up 
for  it. 

There  is  nothing  about  Mary  to  indicate  her 
theatrical  origin.  Her  thin,  crisp  gown  with 
its  little  bows  and  rosettes  of  ribbon,  has  no 
theatrical  cut,  with  all  its  look  of  vogue.  Her 
dark,  smooth  hair  has  no  eccentric  quirks  of 
dressing,  and  her  smooth,  almost  childlike  skin 
is  innocent  of  any  aids  to  freshness.  Ellenbro' 
takes  refuge  in  remembering  Mrs.  Courtney's 
report  from  Atlantic  City  and  the  story  of 
Miss  Baylor's  morning  call.  And  then — well, 
there  must  be  a  something  that  men  recognize. 

"  How  did  he  know  that  she  was  that  sort 
of  person?"  one  matron  asks  another,  indicat 
ing  Mary  and  the  distinguished  visitor.  "He 
wanted  to  be  introduced  to  her  at  once.  He 
recognized  the  difference" 

"  He  probably  knew  her  in  New  York,"  the 
other  said  cynically.  "  And,  any  way,  he  has 
seen  enough  of  the  world  to  classify." 

In  one  of  her  turns  Mary  catches  a  glimpse 
of  the  face  she  is  always  looking  for.  She 
isn't  a  jealous  woman.  She  never  has  been  a 


158  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

jealous  woman.  She  has  always  seen  her  hus 
band  turn  wearily  away  from  women's  society. 
She  has  seen  him  put  on  his  stillest  face  of 
weariness  when  sometimes  one  came  their 
way,  and  she  has  taken  no  thought  that  her 
peace  of  mind  depended  in  a  great  measure 
upon  this. 

There  is  a  generous,  lavish  heart  in  Mary, 
but  that  very  lavishness  is  an  outcome  of  the 
rapid  pulse  that  makes  her  claim  her  own.  It 
had  been  long  since  she  had  seen  on  Richard 
Baylor's  face  just  that  look  of  interest.  In  an 
instant  everything  is  forgotten  except  the 
little  gnawing  pain  that  springs  out  and 
startles  her.  With  a  natural  impulse  she 
stats  toward  her  husband,  and  then,  for  the 
first  time  since  she  has  been  his  wife,  she  draws 
back. 

Cousin  James  Maclntyre  had  spoken  kindly 
to  Edyth,  with  his  eyes  everywhere  and  his 
palm  ready  to  clasp  every  other,  and  then  had 
forgotten  all  about  her. 

"  I  think,"  Edyth  suggested,  "  that  we  had 
better  go  home." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  159 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said  firmly.  "  We  are 
not  going  home  yet."  There  was  a  firm  set 
about  her  mouth.  She  had  in  view  the  social 
demolition  of  this  troublesome  young  woman. 
"  Excessively  bad  taste  to  come  and  force  her 
self  where  she  was  not  invited,"  she  added. 

"  But  nobody  was  invited,  were  they,  my 
dear?"  It  was  seldom  the  general  went  be 
yond  boundaries  well  known  to  him. 

"  That  is  exactly  the  bad  taste.  They  should 
have  waited  to  make  their  appearance  at  some 
thing  to  which  invitations  were  issued." 

"  And  to  which  they  would  not  have  been 
asked." 

"  Certainly  not." 

The  general  hadn't  much  sense  of  humor,  or 
he  would  never,  even  in  callowest  youth,  have 
married  Mrs.  Courtney;  but  there  is  a  little 
line  of  smile  under  his  mustache — a  line  that 
fades  out  in  loneliness,  having  no  companion 
gleam. 

The  great  guest  is  reminded  that  there  is  a 
supper  to  be  eaten  and  that  people  are  waiting 
for  him,  and  he  goes  off  reluctantly,  hoping  to 


160  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

see  Mrs.  Baylor  very  soon  again.  Reg  and 
Mary  are  left  alone,  she  a  trifle  out  of  time. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  night,"  Reg  says,  with  start 
ling  originality. 

"No.  Is  it?  I  hadn't  thought  so.  I  be 
lieve  it  is  going  to  rain.  It  is  surely  time  to 
go  home." 

Everything  has  grown  stale  and  stupid  in 
these  last  minutes.  Mary  looks  about  again, 
and  sees  nothing  of  her  husband.  There  are 
so  many  dark  little  nooks  about  the  grounds. 
She  has  not  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  real 
social  world  to  know  that  her  husband  and 
Mrs.  Rogers  would  be  as  little  likely  to  seek  one 
of  those  secluded  spots,  as  to  dance  a  fandango 
on  the  green. 

They  walk  on  and  on.  Reginald  feels  the 
chill  that  has  come  into  the  atmosphere,  and 
instead  of  finding  Mrs.  Baylor  stupid,  as  he 
would  be  likely  to  find  any  other  woman 
under  the  circumstances,  he  chides  himself  for 
his  inability  to  entertain  her.  The  band  plays 
gay  music,  and  she  stops  and  listens,  a  soft 
little  look  in  her  face.  There  is  one  old  tune, 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  161 

the  "  My  Queen  "  waltz,  that  has  seemed  to 
pulse  and  throb  through  so  much  of  her  life. 
The  orchestra  outside  was  playing  it  the  night 
she  met  Richard,  and  the  band  is  playing  it 
now.  She  stops  Reg  where  they  can  hear  it, 
perfectly  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  around  and 
about  her  is  a  critical  throng,  and  that  the 
Courtneys  are  looking  her  over.  Reg  has 
grown  reckless.  He  doesn't  care  the  very  least 
in  the  world.  With  all  the  doggedness  that  is 
in  him  he  has  enrolled  himself  in  the  ranks  of 
Mrs.  Baylor's  friends,  and  he  means  to  stand 
by  her.  It  looks  such  a  manly  and  sweet  and 
simple  thing  to  do.  The  duty  that  he  owes 
to  Edyth  is  entirely  lost  sight  of. 

It  is  a  curious  phenomenon  in  the  brain  of 
man,  that  when  he  is  in  love — (oh,  Reg,  you 
have  not  named  it,  but  the  rest  of  us  have !) — 
he  has  a  single  vision.  He  can  see  nothing 
whatever  that  does  not  concern  the  object  of 
his  affections.  She  is  the  one  center  toward 
which  all  his  actions  radiate.  It  seems  to  him 
right  and  just  that  he  should  take  up  Mrs. 
Baylor's  cause  and  fight  it  out  to  the  end. 


1 62  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

After  all,  instinct  is  the  very  strongest  force 
that  is  in  us.  Every  action  that  is  of  conse 
quence  is  bred  by  it.  We  may  civilize  our 
emotions,  but  they  arise  up  and  break  their 
bonds  and  laugh  at  us,  in  any  crisis.  Nature 
is  the  great  guide  who  whips  us  all  into  line, 
and  who  scorns  the  puny  laws  of  men. 

"  But,"  Mrs.  Rogers  is  saying  over  on  the 
other  side,  where  she  and  Baylor  still  stand 
idly  talking,  "  there  is  your  wife.  I  want  to 
meet  her."  She  says  it  with  an  air  of  conde 
scension  which  rather  amuses  Baylor  than 
otherwise. 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Baylor  will  be  delighted  ;  " 
and  he  offers  his  arm. 

They  are  all  drifting  down  in  front  of  Mrs. 
Courtney,  where  she  sits  in  august  majesty  and 
a  stiff  and  provincial  black  silk,  Edyth  and 
the  general  keeping  her  company.  It  is  at  this 
especially  and  particularly  inopportune  mo 
ment  that  Cousin  James  Maclntyre  leaves  his 
supper  and  has  a  flash  of  memory.  He  has 
heard  of  Reg's  engagement,  and  he  has  not 
congratulated  him.  Of  course  this  pretty 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  163 

woman  must  be  the  betrothed.  With  the 
utmost  desire  to  make  himself  agreeable  he 
walks  over  to  Reg  and  Mrs.  Baylor,  declines 
to  be  introduced  to  his  "almost  cousin,"  and 
hilariously  congratulates  Reg  upon  his  ap 
proaching  marriage  with  Mary  Baylor.  And 
Edyth  sits  and  hears  it  all ! 

The  offense  is  by  no  means  palliated  by  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Rogers  and  Richard  Baylor  also 
hear  it,  and  seem  to  consider  it  most  amusing. 
Mary's  face  is  her  own  sweet  one  again  at  the 
approach  of  her  husband,  and  while  her  pretty 
cheeks  flush  a  little,  she  too  enjoys  the  joke. 
Reginald's  emotion  goes  deeper  than  any  one 
dreams.  Until  now  his  feeling  for  Mrs.  Bay 
lor  has  been  vague.  Suddenly  the  wild  thought 
of  the  "  might  have  been  "  flashes  through  his 
mind,  leaving  him  pale,  with  a  flutter  about 
his  heart. 

Mrs.  Rogers  stopped  and  said  her  pleasant 
words  to  the  wife  of  her  old  sweetheart,  and 
invited  her  to  drive  home  in  her  carriage.  Reg 
put  Mrs.  Baylor  in  and  then  went  back  to  his 
legitimate  affections. 


1 64  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

As  Mary  and  her  husband  let  themselves  in 
at  their  own  door,  so  different  from  the  little 
entrance  to  their  flat  in  New  York,  and  groped 
their  way  about  through  the  shadows  which 
the  kerosene  lamp  threw  into  the  gloomy 
corners  of  the  dark  hall,  she  suddenly  stopped 
and  put  her  hand  upon  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 
He  turned  about,  and  she  looked  so  eager,  so 
pretty,  so  anxious,  out  of  all  those  black  shad 
ows,  that  he  promptly  kissed  her. 

"Dick,"  she  said,  "who  is  Mrs.  Rogers?" 

"  Mrs.  Rogers?  Oh,  she  was  a  girl  I  used 
to  know,  long  ago.  Her  name  was  Nannie 
Vance.  She  married  a  man  old  enough  to 
be  her  father,  and  he  died  a  few  years  ago." 

"  She  is  in  love  with  you." 

"  Polly,  my  dear,  if  I  listened  to  you,  I  should 
be  the  most  conceited  man  on  this  earth." 

"  You    are — almost,"   Polly  said,  laughing. 

Baylor  picked  up  a  package  which  was 
lying  on  the  spindled  legged  card  table  in  the 
hall.  "  Here  is  our  mail.  One  from  Poncet,  and 
— hello  !  A  letter  for  you  that  looks  as  though 
some  of  your  charity  people  had  written  it." 


XIII. 

was  little  sleep  for  Edyth  that 
night.  She  turned  her  pillow  again  and 
again.  She  felt  years  older  than  she  had  felt 
a  month  ago.  She  almost  wished — with  tears 
falling  down  her  cheeks  and  dropping,  as  is 
the  way  with  easily  shed  tears,  in  round 
splashes  upon  the  white  pillow  case — that  she 

had  never  become  engaged  to  Reg.    She  made 

j> 

up  her  mind  that  she  would  break  with  him 
at  once,  and  let  him  go  and  flirt  with  his  horrid 
married  woman. 

And  then  she  realized  that  that  wouldn't 
mend  the  business  at  all.  Reginald,  by  ask 
ing  her  to  marry  him,  had  put  into  form  a 
something  that  she  could  not  analyze.  It  was 
the  sense  of  possession.  She  felt  that  all  her 
pride,  all  the  woman  in  her,  grew  up  to  pre 
vent  this  other  woman  from  taking  from  her 
what  was  hers.  She  had  hardly  spoken  to  Reg 
165 


1 66  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

all  the  way  home,  and  had  gone  up  to  her 
room  before  he  said  good  night,  slipping  away 
from  formalities  in  the  way  that  is  so  easy  in 
a  great,  many  windowed  house. 

What  had  promised  to  be  her  triumph  had 
been  her  humiliation,  but  she  was  gaining  in 
pride.  The  idea  that  Reg  could  ask  her  to 
marry  him  when  he  did  not  love  her,  she  could 
not  understand.  He  must  love  her.  A  man 
always,  in  her  world,  asked  a  woman  to  marry 
him  because  he  cared  more  for  her  than  for 
anything  else  on  earth.  The  idea  of  Reg 
thinking  of  her  money  never  had  the  slightest 
entrance  into  her  mind.  Her  money  had  done 
too  little  for  her,  that  she  could  see,  for  her 
to  realize  its  value  in  the  eyes  of  other  people. 

Edyth  was  young  and  healthy.  Before  she 
had  become  so  miserable  she  had  eaten  a 
hearty  supper,  so  she  finally  went  to  sleep ;  but 
in  the  morning  she  awoke  with  the  first  gray- 
ness  of  the  dawn  with  that  sense  of  heaviness, 
of  disaster,  of  unnamed  sorrow,  which  follows 
a  waking  when  sleep  has  come  to  a  heavy 
heart. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  167 

The  heavy  boughs  of  the  maples  were  dew 
laden  against  her  casement,  and  all  the  air  was 
full  of  the  busy  stir  of  birds.  She  could  not 
lie  still,  and  she  could  not  think  of  getting  up 
to  face  them  all  at  breakfast.  She  opened  the 
casement  and  looked  out.  The  river  lay  clear 
and  cool  in  the  distance,  and  along  its  rather 
rugged  banks,  along  the  bluff  above,  ran  a 
road  fringed  by  alders,  goldenrod,  and  iron- 
weed.  She  could  see  the  river  mists  hanging 
ragged  on  the  branches. 

There  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
the  shrill  whistle  of  Yellow  Bob  on  his  way  to 
the  stables.  Edyth  put  her  head  out  of  the 
window. 

"Bob!"  she  cried. 

"  Yesstim ! " 

"  Saddle  Gladys."  (Poor  Edyth!  Even  in 
naming  her  pretty  brown  mare  she  had  had 
no  imagination,  but  had  called  it  by  the  name 
she  would  have  given  a  baby.)  "  I  am  going 
to  ride." 

"  Fo'h  sun  up?" 

"  Now." 


1 68  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"All  right'm." 

There  was  a  strangeness  in  the  world;  it 
was  as  though  it  were  new.  Edyth  had  never 
done  such  a  thing  as  this  before.  The  mare 
seemed  to  feel  her  mood  and  adapt  herself  to 
it.  They  went  springing  over  the  turf  of  the 
field  that  led  through  to  the  river  road,  and 
then  the  horse's  feet  were  brisk  on  the  road's 
hard  whiteness. 

Edyth  hardly  knew  how  long  she  had  ridden. 
She  did  not  come  back  to  the  river  road,  but 
turned  off  into  another,  which  ran  through  a 
little  glen.  The  sun  had  grown  hot,  and  she 
needed  food.  It  looked  very  cool  and  inviting 
down  in  there,  and  she  rode  her  horse  over  the 
almost  spongy  turf  that  led  down  the  hillside 
into  the  glen.  She  dismounted,  careful  of  her 
dress  and  her  gloves,  and,  taking  off  her  hat, 
sat  down  by  the  side  of  a  fern  shaded  little 
spring. 

There  was  a  stillness  all  about  her  and  a 
shadow.  The  spring  was  wide  again  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bunch  of  willows,  and  there 
was  another  hollow.  Edyth  had  not  been  here 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  169 

since  the  year  before,  and  she  was  wondering 
how  it  looked  on  the  other  side.  There  used 
to  be  some  raspberry  canes  over  in  there.  She 
wondered  if  there  was  any  late  fruit  on  them, 
and  half  started  up  to  see,  but  was  arrested  by 
a  voice — a  voice  whose  every  tone  she  had 
grown  to  dread  and  hate — Mary  Baylor's. 

Then  she  remembered  that  she  was  on  the 
Baylor  place.  Of  course  Mary's  companion 
was  Reg.  Edyth  felt  that  it  must  be  so.  She 
sat  still  as  though  she  had  not  the  volition  to 
move.  She  did  not  want  to  hear  what  they 
were  saying,  but  she  had  not  the  courage  to 
get  up  and  let  them  see  her  there.  And  so  she 
sat  still. 

"  Please  go  away,"  Mrs.  Baylor's  voice  was 
saying  plaintively.  There  were  almost  tears 
in  it.  "  Please,  oh  please,  go  away  !  I  can  do 
nothing  more  for  you,  and  if  Mr.  Baylor  were 
to  know  about  you " 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  could  say  to  me, 
that  hasn't  been  said  already,"  said  a  bitter 
voice  that  was  a  man's,  but  yet  not  Reg's.  "  I 
have  had  the  whole  catalogue  of  vituperation 


170  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

flung  at  me  from  one  quarter  or  another, 

and "  there  was  a  throaty  laugh  which 

sounded  as  though  the  vocal  chords  had  been 
through  very  rough  usage — "  I  think  I  can 
claim  the  credit  of  having  deserved  it  all.  But 
you,  Polly,  you  never  were  like  that." 

"  Can't  you  understand,"  Edyth  hears  her 
say,  "that  everything  is  different  now?  I  am 
married.  I  have  a  little  girl.  I  do  not  want 
my  husband — my  child " 

"  To  know,  eh?  Well,  it  isn't  exactly  kind. 
But  I  am  a  very  sick  man.  You  are  the  only 
friend  I  have  in  the  world.  I  wanted  to  come 
down  here  and  see  it  all  before  I  died." 

"  Don't !     Oh,  dortt  !  " 

A  touch  of  red  came  into  Edyth's  cheeks. 
"  Oh,  mine  enemy  ! "  her  heart  seemed  to 
say,  "  so  you  have  a  secret  to  hide  !  " 

Edyth  was  frightened  at  the  intensity  of  her 
own  feeling.  She  had  never  expected  to  be 
a  listener.  Yesterday  she  would  have  scorned 
doing  anything  so  dishonorable,  but  today — 
she  opened  wide  her  ears. 

"Does    it    bother   you    so   much,    Polly?" 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  I?1 

There  was  almost  gentleness  in  the  voice. 
"  Well,  I  will  go  away  again.  I  am  glad  to 
have  seen  you,  though.  I  rather  thought  I 
might  see  you  now  and  then — and  I  should 
like  to  see  your  baby.  I  am — "  he  laughed 
again — "absolutely  disreputable,  I  know,  but 
nobody  could  hurt  you  or  yours,  Polly." 

"  Poncet  is  coming  down.  I  have  a  letter 
from  him.  He  would  know  you.  It  would  be 
a  secret  between  us.  You  must — oh,  won't 
you  ? — go  away." 

"  Yes,  if  I— can." 

"  Please,  oh  please,  promise  me ! " 

Gladys  made  a  noise  with  her  foot.  Edyth 
could  fairly  hear  the  silence  that  followed ; 
and  then  there  was  the  sound  of  people  moving 
away. 


XIV. 

T^DYTH  hardly  knew  how  long  she  sat 
"^  there;  long  enough  to  have  created 
dozens  of  conversations  in  which  she  could 
tell  Reg  all  that  she  had  overheard.  She  did 
not  think  of  going  home  and  telling  it  to  her 
aunt.  The  girl  had  gone  beyond  that  stage, 
and  had  come  to  the  realization  of  her  own  in 
dependent  womanhood. 

As  she  rode  up  through  the  shadow  of  the 
glen,  she  passed  a  man  who  she  felt  sure  must 
be  the  one  that  had  been  speaking  to  Mrs. 
Baylor.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman  whose 
manners  and  morals  had  grown  seedy  with  his 
clothes.  There  was  a  half  attempt  at  respect 
ability,  whose  gloss  was  taken  off  by  a  glance 
at  the  dissipated  face,  worn  with  enough  life 
to  have  killed  half  a  dozen  men.  There  was 
a  something  about  the  figure  that  looked 

foreign  or  theatrical.    Theatrical,  Edyth  called 
172 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  173 

it,  because  the  foreign  flavor  was  outside  her 
knowledge  or  comprehension.  She  looked  at 
him  with  fear  and  disgust,  and  yet  with  a  sort 
of  pleasure,  too.  Truly  she  need  never  fear 
Mrs.  Baylor  again,  after  she  had  told  her  story 
to  Reg. 

It  was  afternoon  when  she  arrived  at  home 
and  found  General  and  Mrs.  Courtney  out  on 
the  veranda  looking  for  her,  and  Reginald  on 
horseback  about  to  go  in  search  of  her. 

"  There  she  is  now,"  her  aunt  said,  with  a 
worried  look.  "  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  For  a  little  ride.  I  went  farther  than  I 
intended,  and  came  home  by  the  glen  road." 

Mrs.  Courtney  suddenly  turned  to  her  hus 
band,  as  though  he  were  responsible.  "Wasn't 
it  on  the  glen  road  that  Bob  saw  that  queer 
looking  man  yesterday  ?  My  dear  Edyth,  you 
must  not  go  out  unless  Reginald  is  with  you. 
He  has  been  so  anxious  that  he  was  about  to 
start  after  you." 

"  Yes,  I  was  going  to  start  after  you,"  Reg 
said,  turning  himself  in  his  saddle  and  dis 
mounting  to  lift  Edyth  to  the  ground,  "  but  I 


174  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

did  you  and  the  mare  the  compliment  of 
thinking  you  could  take  care  of  yourselves. 
But  if  you  had  told  me,  and  waited  for  a 
breakfast,  I  should  have  been  delighted  to  go 
with  you." 

In  the  new  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Baylor  which 
Edyth  possessed,  and  in  her  knowledge  of 
Reg's  opinions  upon  some  subjects,  she  had 
come  to  consider  him  as  her  own  again.  The 
feeling  had  been  strengthened  by  the  sight  of 
him,  big  and  stalwart,  a  modern  knight  in 
corduroy,  setting  out  to  rescue  his  lady  love 
from  unknown  terrors.  It  was  a  little  dampen 
ing  to  know  that  he  had  been  ordered  out  and 
was  going  with  a  laugh. 

"  There  is  a  luncheon  inside  for  you,  and  I 
am  coming  in  to  help  you  eat  it,"  Reg  said. 
"I  was  started  off  with  a  snatched  crust." 

"  Come  along,"  Edyth  cried  gaily.  She 
looked  almost  pretty,  she  was  so  happy  and 
elated — innocent,  good  little  Edyth  ! — over  the 
downfall  of  this  other  woman.  Reg  had 
probably  known  what  sort  of  person  she  was 
all  along,  and  while  it  was  not  very  respectful 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  175 

in  him  to  parade  about  with  her  before  his 
mother  and  his  sweetheart,  still,  that  ought 
to  be  forgiven. 

"  I'll  be  there.  Get  your  hat  off." 
It  was  a  substantial  luncheon  that  the  maid 
put  on  the  table  when  she  knew  that  Miss 
Edyth  was  coming  in  hungry.  Substantial 
meals  were  served  at  the  Courtneys'  every 
day,  as  was  consistent  with  all  the  other 
family  appointments.  Edyth  sat  down  to  it 
with  a  keen  relish.  She  had  laid  out  her  line  of 
tactics.  She  was  going  to  tell  Reg  the  story, 
as  she  would  tell  him  a  story  about  any  one 
else.  She  would  ignore  the  fact  of  his  more 
than  casual  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Baylor. 

Reg  was  in  his  best  humor.  He  had  kept 
his  horse  at  the  door,  and  he  was  going  to  ride 
over  to  the  Baylor  estate  this  very  afternoon. 
From  former  experiences  he  knew  that  Mrs. 
Baylor  at  her  most  gracious  was  Mrs.  Baylor 
at  home.  There  were  a  few  arbors  and  quaint, 
rickety  old  summerhouses  about  Castle  Hill. 
Mary  and  Dolly  were  a  pair  of  merry  compan 
ions  with  whom  to  while  away  the  hours. 


176  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Sometimes  Baylor  came  out  under  the  trees 
and  smoked  a  cigar.  It  was  seldom  enough 
that  Reg  could  be  induced  to  smoke  a  cigar  in 
the  society  of  his  divinity.  To  Dick  Baylor, 
Reg  is  the  veriest  boy,  a  callow  stripling.  He 
looks  at  him  sometimes,  and  wonders  in  an 
idle  fashion  what  Polly  finds  in  his  society  to 
amuse  her,  and  presently  comes  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  she  sets  him  at  errands.  "  And  a 
good  thing,  too,"  he  thinks.  "  I'm  past  errand 
running  myself." 

Such  an  insight  into  enjoyment  of  simple 
living  as  Reg  gets  from  this  household  is  a 
revelation  to  him.  He  has  never  known  people 
to  whom  the  light  of  day,  the  sun  overhead, 
the  simple  every  day  pleasures,  were  of  para 
mount  importance.  People  in  Ellenbro' — the 
people  he  had  known  all  of  his  life — were 
always  living  for  the  vision  of  their  neighbors. 
Every  act  was  not  first  of  all  for  the  pleasure 
of  it,  but  that  it  might  make  some  sort  of  an 
impression  upon  the  neighborhood.  When 
Mary  was  at  home  she  enjoyed  up  to  the  edge 
every  minute  of  the  glad  day.  She  was  a  gay, 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  177 

jolly,  merry  hearted  girl,  whose  heart  held  not 
one  grain  of  malice  toward  any  soul  on  earth. 
Sometimes  her  sense  of  humor  made  her  see 
the  fun  in  people. 

"  There  are  people,"  she  said  one  day  to 
Reg,  "  who  are  so  funny  that  I  cannot  see  why 
they  are  not  perpetually  entertained  by  their 
own  society." 

But  whatever  she  said  there  was  never  in  any 
thing  the  least  sting  of  ill  nature. 

There  floated  in  his  mind's  eye  a  vision  of 
her,  in  her  simple  white  gown  and  gay  hat, 
idling  away  the  time  about  the  hillside  of  her 
lawn,  amusing  Dolly,  waiting  for  him  to  come. 
He  knew  that  she  would  lift  Dolly  up,  and  be 
unaffectedly  glad  to  see  him,  and  that  she 
would  tell  him  so.  There  were  smiles  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  as  he  thought  of  it.  It 
was  a  little  early  to  go.  He  looked  at  the  tall, 
solemn  old  clock  in  the  dining  room,  and 
thought  that  he  could  very  profitably  kill  half 
an  hour  talking  to  Edyth,  and  eating  the  re 
mainder  of  his  luncheon. 

Edyth  had  come  down  stairs  after  Reg  had 


178  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

begun  to  knock  his  heels  on  the  floor  and 
frown  a  little  impatiently.  Poor  Edyth  had 
not  the  knowledge  of  dress  any  more  than  she 
had  the  knowledge  of  any  gift  of  the  imagina 
tion.  She  had  a  fondness  for  wrappers.  If 
there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that  re 
quires  to  be  idealized  it  is  a  wrapper.  There 
must  be  an  idealization  both  of  wearer  and 
gown.  With  Edyth  there  was  neither.  A 
wrapper,  to  her,  was  a  plain,  unpoetic  wrapper, 
made  neatly,  and  strictly  for  business,  of  plain, 
dotted  cambric,  well  washed  and  starched.  It 
was  clean  and  ugly,  and  the  wearer  was  sun 
burned  and  plain.  She  had  dabbed  cologne 
water,  a  scent  which  Reg  hated,  upon  her  hair, 
and  pushed  it  back  from  her  heated  brow. 
She  looked  as  practical  as  bread  and  butter 
and  roast  beef.  She  came  in  oddly  upon  Reg's 
vision  of  that  other  woman's  frills  and  coquet 
tish  bows,  so  innocently  donned. 

"  Where  did  you  go  this  morning?"  he  asks, 
as  he  carefully  puts  the  ingredients  of  a  salad 
dressing  into  a  wooden  spoon  and  stirs  them 
around.  "  Did  you  stop  anywhere  ?  " 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  179 

"  I  got  off  for  a  little  while  by  the  spring  in 
the  glen." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  that  road  alone,  Edyth." 

"  It  seems  to  be  safe  enough  for  some  people. 
I  saw  one  of  your  friends  there  this  morning." 
This  was  exactly  what  she  had  intended  not  to 
say.  She  was  to  ignore  that  Mrs.  Baylor  was 
a  friend. 

"Who  was  that?" 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on. 
"  Mrs.  Baylor." 

"  Was  she  riding  ?  "  Reg  had  no  idea  how 
much  eagerness  went  into  his  voice.  He  had 
asked  Mrs.  Baylor  if  she  rode  over  and  over 
again,  but  she  had  always  laughed  and  said 
she  was  afraid  she  would  fall  off. 

"  No,"  Edyth  said  icily.  "  She  seemed  to 
have  walked.  I  only  heard  her.  She  was  on 
one  side  of  the  spring,  behind  the  trees,  when 
I  was  on  the  other.  She  had  evidently  made 
an  appointment  there  with  a  man — a  man  who 
looked  like  a  dissipated  tramp.  She  was  beg 
ging  him  to  go  away  and  keep  out  of  her  hus 
band's  way ;  not  to  annoy  her  in  her  new  life. 


i8o  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

I  presume  it  was  some  one  of  her  early  asso 
ciates  who  knows  more  about  her  early  life 
than  she  cares  to  have  known." 

Edyth  was  not  a  virago,  but  her  voice  had 
gone  on  and  on,  gaining  in  intensity  as  her 
anger  against  this  woman  arose.  She  had  not 
looked  at  Reg's  face.  It  was  perfectly  white. 

"  And  you" — he  could  hardly  speak.  "  And 
you — stood  and  listened,  and  came  away  to 
garble  fragments  of  a  private  conversation  not 
intended  for  your  ears!  I  have  heard  that 
there  was  no  honor  in  women — some  women 
—who  call  themselves  good.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  I  do  not  believe  that  there  is  one  second 
in  Mrs.  Baylor's  life  that  she  would  hide  from 
the  world.  I  know  that  she  would  never  take 
advantage  of  another  woman  behind  her  back ! " 
And  the  foolish,  hot  headed,  hot  hearted  young 
gallant  walks  out  of  the  room,  and  comes  very 
near  slamming  the  door. 


XV. 

TF  one  of  the  chairs  had  suddenly  shot  out 
an  arm  and  struck  him,  Reg  would  not 
have  been  more  astonished  than  he  was  by 
this  new  development  of  character  in  Edyth. 
There  had  been  weakness  and  shyness  and 
some  obstinacy — the  obstinacy  of  ignorance, 
embroidered  with  not  much  symmetry  upon 
the  native  goodness  of  her  character  ;  but  this 
"  downright  meanness,"  as  Reg  called  it 
angrily  to  himself,  was  something  unpar 
donable. 

He  flung  himself  upon  his  horse,  and 
naturally  went  straight  toward  Mrs.  Baylor's, 
because  he  had  learned  from  experience  that  he 
was  always  soothed  by  the  sound  of  Mary's 
voice  and  the  touch  of  little  Dolly's  baby  arms. 
He  found  Mary  walking  feverishly  about,  a  new 
color  in  her  cheeks  and  an  impatient  tremble 
in  her  hands. 

181 


1 82  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said.  Her 
heart  was  going  in  her  bosom  like  a  spinning 
ball,  and  she  welcomed  anything  that  took  her 
out  of  herself.  Perhaps  an  older  man  would 
have  seen  that  there  was  something  troubling 
her,  that  she  was  looking  for  a  diversion — any 
diversion,  and  took  the  first  one  that  came  to 
hand.  He  would  have  felt  the  fever  in  the 
hot  little  hand  as  it  touched  his  own ;  he  would 
have  seen  the  evidences  of  a  disturbed  mind, 
in  the  careful  toilet  that  must  have  taken  much 
longer  than  usual  to  make. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  be  here,"  Reg  said  rather 
tamely.  He  was  so  honest,  he  had  so  few  fine 
phrases  in  his  vocabulary;  he  was  so  un 
accustomed  to  needing  them.  "  Where  is 
Dolly?"  He  looked  about  for  the  merry  little 
figure,  that  was  always  ready  to  climb  upon 
his  knee,  and  hunt  for  treasures  in  his  pockets. 

"  Dolly?"  with  indifference.  "  She  is  happy 
in  a  new  discovery.  There  is  a  brook  that 
runs  through  the  place.  'Willow  Pond,'  they 
call  it,  although  why  'pond,'  Pin  sure  I  don't 
know." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  183 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  cut  all  my  whistles  there  as  a 
youngster.  It's  a  famous  place  for  catfish. 
Did  you  ever  catch  a  catfish  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  did,  but  I'd  like  to." 

«  Well " 

"Let's!" 

"Get  your  hat."  Reg  had  been  ordering 
Edyth  about  ever  since  she  was  a  very  young 
child,  and  still  owned  that  privilege,  which 
was  perhaps  the  reason  he  valued  it  so  little. 
It  may  also  have  been  the  reason  he  felt  such 
a  sense  of  manly  power  in  sending  Mrs.  Baylor 
after  her  hat.  She  came  back  in  a  moment 
with  it  on,  looking  ten  times  as  pretty  as  she 
had  without  it. 

"Who  is  with  Dolly?"  he  asked,  more  for 
something  to  say  than  anything  else,  because 
he  expected  it  to  be  her  father,  and  Mary  knew 
what  picture  of  the  father  and  child  was  in  his 
mind.  Her  own  face  clouded  over. 

"A  colored  girl,"  she  said  shortly.  They 
walked  along  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  Mr.  Baylor  went  out  this  afternoon  to  make 
some  calls,"  Mary  said  then. 


1 84  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Did  he  ?  "  Embarrassment  was  in  Reg's 
voice.  He  was  wondering  where  in  the  mis 
chief  Richard  Baylor  could  be  calling,  and  he 
was  acutely  conscious  that  Mary  must  know 
what  he  was  thinking  of. 

"  What  a  cad  the  man  must  be,"  he  thought 
to  himself,  "to  go  to  call  upon  people  who  have 
not  been  to  see  his  wife." 

"  An  old  friend,  whom  he  met  at  the  garden 
party,"  Mary  went  on. 

"  Oh ! " 

They  were  walking  along  through  the 
meadow.  The  sun  was  on  the  timothy  and 
clover,  bringing  out  all  its  sweetness.  The 
second  crop  had  not  been  cut,  but  was  waiting 
to  be  "  turned  under  "  to  enrich  the  soil.  It 
was  ragged  and  clumpy,  but  sweet,  and  the 
bees  were  blundering  and  honey  gathering  in 
the  dull  red  blossoms. 

"  Do  you  like  the  country  ?  "  Reg  remarked. 

"  I  used  to  think  I  loved  it,"  she  said 
after  a  moment,  "  but  perhaps  it  was  only  my 
idea  of  it.  I  used  to  look  at  the  stage  country, 
and  think  it  was  simply  heaven.  I  think 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  185 

there  are  a  great  many  things  that  we  see  the 
semblance  of,  and  think  we  should  be  perfectly 
happy  if  we  only  had  them  in  reality,  which 
would  disappoint  us  dreadfully  if  they  really 
came  our  way." 

Reg  said  nothing,  but  he  looked  down  at 
her,  and  a  sigh  came  in  his  throat.  He  only 
switched  at  the  timothy  tops  and  was  silent. 
They  were  nearing  the  fringe  of  willows 
which  defined  the  "  pond,"  a  narrow  stream 
with  deep  holes  here  and  there  where  it 
turned;  holes  where  disobedient  little  boys 
loved  to  gather  in  the  stolen  delight  of  ugoin' 
in  swimmin'."  They  could  hear  Dolly's  shrill 
little  screams  of  delight,  and  in  an  instant  see 
her  dancing  about  upon  her  little  bare  pink 
toes,  her  flower  of  a  white  sunbonnet  pushed 
back  from  her  face.  She  was  leaning  over  a 
tin  pail. 

"Can  you  catch  any  more?"  she  was  in 
quiring  excitedly.  "  I'm  goin'  to  take  this  one 
home  and  pet  it,  and  maybe  it  can  be  cooked  for 
Dick's  supper."  When  Dolly  loved  her  father 
more  dearly  than  usual  she  called  him  Dick. 


1 86  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Not  much  of  a  supper's  mess  o'  fish  kin 
you  ketch  this  here  way,"  the  negro  girl  said. 
She  had  a  stout  barrel  hoop  in  her  hand,  to 
which  had  been  fastened  a  sort  of  bag  made  of 
several  thicknesses  of  mosquito  netting.  She 
was  using  it  as  a  seine,  dipping  up  now  and 
then  a  minnow  or  a  sunfish,  or  a  little  catfish. 

Dolly  ran  to  her  mother  when  she  saw  her, 
wild  with  delight.  "  It  makes  me  feel  about 
five  years  old,"  Mary  said.  "  I'd  like  to  go 
wading  in  Willow  Pond  and  catch  fish 
myself." 

"Why  don't  you?" 

She  laughed  a  little  oddly  and  looked  at 
him.  "  I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  any 
different  from  wading  about  as  we  used  to  do 
at  Trouville,  in  France.  It  seems  a  little 
different,  though,  to  be  doing — well,  anything 
odd  here  in  America." 

"  They  say  there  are  no  people  so  odd  and 
unconventional  as  Americans." 

"  Oh,  yes !  Americans  in  Europe.  They 
are  odd  enough.  But  there  isn't  any  place 
where  an  odd  thing  is  as  odd  as  it  is  in 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  187 

America."  She  looked  longingly  at  the  seine 
and  at  the  cool  brook,  at  her  shoes  that  only 
needed  a  pull  at  a  ribbon  to  come  off,  and  then 
back  at  Reg.  Honestly  in  her  heart  she  saw 
no  possible  reason  why  she  shouldn't  take  off 
her  shoes  and  stockings  and  wade  in  the  water. 
Brook  water  and  sea  water,  Atlantic  City  and 
Ellenbro',  are  much  the  same.  But  there 
was  something  in  the  boy's  face  that  stopped 
her. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  hardly  does  to  forget  one's  years. 
Dolly  will  have  no  respect  for  her  mother's 
age  and  wisdom  if  she  sees  me  paddling  about 
catching  fish." 

She  sat  down  on  the  bank,  looking  away  in 
another  direction,  and  took  her  big  hat  off. 
Her  dress  was  cut  low  around  her  pretty  white 
neck,  and  she  had  gathered  her  soft  dark  hair  up 
in  a  knot  and  run  a  white  ribbon  through  it. 
There  was  a  wistful  expression  in  Mary's  face, 
as  it  settled  into  quietness  after  the  merriment 
that  had  swept  over  her  at  the  thought  of  a 
possible  "lark." 

Reg  was  young ;  and  there  was  a  touch  of 


1 88  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

something  upon  his  pulse  which  weighed 
heavier  every  hour.  He  was  close  to  Mary, 
closer  than  he  had  been  since  the  night  of  the 
theatricals,  when  he  carried  her  in.  The 
thought  of  her  taking  off  her  shoes  and  stock 
ings  to  wade  in  the  brook  had  struck  his 
imagination  as  the  fact  of  her  really  doing  it 
would  never  have  done.  He  thought  of  all 
sorts  of  things  that  he  would  like  to  say  to  her. 
He  was  astonished  at  his  own  audacity  in 
thinking  them ;  and  yet  he  lingered  delightedly 
over  them.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  put  two 
young  people  down  together — wise  old  Poncet 
had  thought  it  all  out  as  he  had  seen  them  to 
gether — and  not  have  the  subject  which  was 
made  for  boys  and  girls  come  up  between  them. 

It  seemed  to  Reg  that  there  was  inspiration 
in  the  air. 

"  How  pretty  it  is  out  here,"  Mary  said, 
pulling  at  the  grass  beside  her.  "  But  then 
almost  any  place  is  pretty  sometimes ; "  and  she 
sighed. 

"  Any  place  is  pretty,  it  seems  to  me,  if  you 
have  the  people  you  care  for  with  you." 


THE  FIRvST  FAMILIES.  189 

Do  you  ever  think  that?"  she  asked  him 
wonderingly. 

He  reddened  under  her  gaze.  "  Why 
shouldn't  I  think  that?  Haven't  I  an  under 
standing?" 

"Yes,  but — you  never  have  struck  me  as 
having  been  in  love,  even  the  little  bit  that 
men  call  being  in  love." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  being  in  love?"  he 
asked  her. 

She  opened  her  mouth  two  or  three  times, 
just  parting  her  lips  to  speak.  It  was  very 
sunny  and  quiet  down  there  by  the  brook. 
They  were  sitting  on  the  bank  with  their  feet 
hanging  over  to  the  pebbles.  Dolly  was 
hilariously  seining  for  minnows  further  up, 
the  sun  and  shade  dappling  her  white  gown 
and  plump  little  pink  legs  as  they  moved 
through  the  water.  Mary  pulled  a  blade  of 
grass  and  drew  it  through  her  fingers  as  though 
it  were  new  and  strange. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  men's  love  at  all.  They 
are  never  constant  except  in  books.  People 
write  books  full  of  stuff — men  who  die  for 


190  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

people  they  love,  but  I  notice  " — there  was  a 
cynical  gleam  in  Mrs.  Baylor's  eye — "  that 
their  taking  off  is  usually  complicated  with 
other  diseases.  Look  down  deep  enough  and 
there  is  usually  some  other  motive  cropping 
out.  Sometimes,  I  know,  they  hardly  know  it 

themselves.  They  think "  and  then  Mary 

stopped.  She  did  not  truly  believe  that  there 
was  any  underlying  "  motive  "  in  Dick's  love 
for  her  in  those  old  days.  There  never  had 
been  any  doubt  of  it  until  the  last  day  or  two, 
when  she  saw  him  with  his  own  people,  who 
utterly  refused  to  be  her  people. 

"What  do  they  think  ?"  Reg's  voice  was 
not  exactly  within  his  own  control. 

"  They  think  a  woman  will  stand  any 
thing." 

Reg  hated  Baylor  because  he  was  who  he 
was.  This  new  joy  that  had  come  into  his  heart 
was  so  innocent  that  it  had  not  made  him 
ignoble,  had  not  caused  that  disintegration 
that  seems  to  begin  at  every  point  in  a  charac 
ter  under  the  dissolving  influence  of  an  unlaw 
ful  passion.  He  was  not  far  enough  gone  to 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  191 

be  glad  that  Baylor  was  making  her  unhappy, 
seeing  in  this  an  opportunity  for  himself. 

"It  is  a  coward  who  would  make  a  woman 
like  you  stand  anything,"  he  said  with  sudden 
vehemence. 

She  turned  her  face  to  his  with  every  bit  of 
color  out  of  it.  u  What  right  have  you  to 
say  that  to  me  ?  "  There  is  cool  scorn — utter 
repudiation  of  everything,  it  seems  to  him — in 
her  voice,  and  it  heats  instead  of  cools  his  blood. 
"  What  are  you  to  me  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all  to  you,  I  suppose,"  poor 
Reg  says  hotly,  "  but  you  know  perfectly  well 
that  you  are  everything  to  me.  You  know 
that,  from  the  very  first  instant  I  saw  you,  I 
have  had  no  choice  but  to  follow  where  you 
led.  You  know  I  wouldn't  have  it  otherwise." 

Oh,  good  and  conventional  woman,  there  is 
but  one  thing  for  you  to  do  in  a  case  like  this. 
All  the  highly  moral  books  have  told  you  long, 
long  ago  what  is  expected  of  you,  just  as  all 
the  bad  books  have  told  you,  with  nicety  of 
detail,  what  is  done  by  those  others  in  whom 
the  prayerbook  says  there  is  "  no  health."  But 


1 92  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Mary  Baylor  has  been  brought  up  in  the 
natural  school.  She  does  not  lift  her  skirts, 
arise,  and  move  away,  sorrow  and  scorn  in  her 
eyes,  nor  does  she  narrow  her  eyes  and  calcu 
late,  and  think  that  her  hour  of  revenge  has 
come.  She  associates  both  of  these  attitudes 
with  the  stage,  and  she  is  playing  neither  the 
part  of  the  ingenue  nor  that  of  the  adventuress. 

She  turns  around,  and  the  color  comes  back 
into  her  face.  A  little  curl  starts  up  at  each 
corner  of  her  mouth,  as  she  opens  it  to  say, 
"  Well,  of  all  the  young  fools  !  " 

"  I  know  I'm  a  fool,"  Reg  says,  "  and  I  sup 
pose  you  couldn't  help  making  one  of  me.  I 
suppose  I  made  myself.  You  couldn't  help 
being  yourself,  I  suppose." 

"  My  dear  boy,  your  suppositions  are  mainly 
correct.  I'm  perfectly  sure  that  I  cannot  help 
being  myself,  and  I  do  not  want  to  help  it. 
But  I  deny  having  made  a  fool  of  you."  She 
really  looks  at  him  in  wonder.  If  Dolly  had 
slapped  her  she  would  hardly  have  been  more 
surprised.  "  Don't  be  silly.  Why,  I  like  you. 
You  are  just  like  my  young  brother,  or  like 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  193 

what  he  ought  to  be.  I  can — I  thought  I 
could — talk  to  you  about  anything.  Why, 
you  are  a  boy." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  have  a  heart,"  Reg 
dolefully  replies. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have,"  Mary  says,  rising;  "and 
there  is  no  room  for  another  there.  It  has 
more  to  bear  than  a  boy  like  you  ever  ought 
to  know  of.  Go  back  to  your  sweetheart,  that 
— nice  girl."  Mary  is  polite,  but  she  is  honest, 
and  she  has  never  seen  anything  in  Edyth  to 
bring  out  any  complimentary  adjective  spon 
taneously.  "  You  will  learn  after  a  while,  my 
dear  boy,  that  you  are  much  happier  with 
some  one  who  cares  a  great  deal  for  you  than 
with  some  one  who  doesn't  care  at  all." 

"But  whom " 

"  I  wouldn't  say  it."  She  turns  quickly  and 
calls  Dolly.  "I'll  take  the  baby  home.  I 
think  you  had  better  stay  away  for  a  while." 

Poor  Reg  turns  and  goes  sadly  up  the  fields, 
back  to  Edyth,  to  duty.  As  he  comes  out  by 
the  water  gap  he  sees,  loafing  there,  a  figure 
which  makes  his  fists  ache.  It  is  the  dis- 


194  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

reputable  looking  man  whom  Edyth  lias  seen. 
He  looks  at  Reg,  and  then  quickly  turns  in 
the  other  direction,  and  starts  walking,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  in  the  direction  from 
which  Reg  has  just  come. 

Reg  stops  and  half  turns  around,  and  then 
sets  his  face.     He  will  not  turn  and  look. 


XVI. 

IT)  KG  might  have  gone  home  happier  had  he 
turned  in  time  to  see  that  Mary  and  little 
Dolly  went  across  the  fields  alone,  with  the 
maid  coming  along  behind,  and  the  pail  spill 
ing  water  and  minnows  at  every  step.  It  was 
almost  dinner  time,  and  all  the  way  home 
Mary  built  up  sentences  of  a  cutting  nature 
to  say  to  her  husband.  She  felt  sure  he  would 
be  there  to  meet  her.  She  knew  that  she 
would  say  nothing  of  the  sort  when  she 
actually  met  him,  but  it  cooled  her  brain  to 
think  she  would. 

She  had  never  quarreled  with  Dick.  Some 
times,  when  his  indifferent  air  grew  too  in 
different,  she  had  felt  the  storm  rising;  but 
the  sight  of  his  calmness,  of  the  light  catch 
ing  his  blond  head  or  the  line  of  his  perpen 
dicular  profile,  had  always  sent  her  back  to 
him  happy  again  in  the  very  fact  of  his  being 
195 


196  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

there.  Almost  invariably  silent,  with  no 
words  to  waste  upon  any  one,  Mary  yet  hung 
upon  the  very  expressions  of  his  face.  She 
told  herself  that  he  only  loved  her  because  she 
loved  him ;  she  tormented  herself  with  a  thou 
sand  doubts,  and  then  she  thanked  Heaven 
that  he  was  so  indifferent.  He  was  hers. 

This  evening,  as  she  drew  near,  she  lost  all 
memory  of  Reg  and  his  poor  little  story  in  her 
delight  at  seeing  Baylor  again.  It  was  a  de 
light  which  time  had  no  power  to  conquer. 
Mary's  love  was  part  of  herself,  the  very  spring 
of  her  nature,  the  incentive  for  almost  every 
act  of  her  life,  remotely  or  nearly.  But  the 
slender,  slow  moving  figure,  with  its  eternal 
cigar,  and  hands  idly  thrust  into  pockets,  was 
not  pacing  up  and  down  before  the  door,  nor 
reclining  in  the  wicker  chair  under  the  trees. 
Seated  stiffly  on  one  of  the  hard  settees  which 
had  disfigured  the  veranda  for  a  generation, 
sat  his  elder  half  sister,  Miss  Baylor,  looking 
hard  and  stiff  and  unflinching,  as  a  woman 
usually  looks  when  she  has  come  to  perform  a 
duty.  It  was  not  easy  for  Miss  Baylor  to  come 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  1 97 

here,  and  she  ought  to  be  honored  for  doing 
her  duty  as  she  saw  it. 

Careless  Mary  had  never  once  thought  of  re 
turning  the  visit  that  had  been  made  to  her. 
Richard  had  not  suggested  it,  and  she  was  not 
sufficiently  accustomed  to  formal  visits  to  think 
of  it  for  herself.  She  came  up  now  with  her 
usual  sweetness  and  grace  and  put  out  her 
hand.  Her  heart  was  sick  with  disappoint 
ment  that  her  husband  was  not  here,  and  her 
ears  were  alert  for  his  step  in  the  house. 

"Come  up,  Dolly — my  little  daughter — and 
speak  to  your  aunt ; "  but  Miss  Dolly  held 
back.  There  was  nothing  in  that  face  to 
please  her. 

Miss  Baylor  paid  no  sort  of  attention  to  her. 
"  Where  is  Richard  ?  "  she  asked  dryly. 

"  He  " — a  set  look  came  into  Mary's  face — 
"  he  went  to  call  upon  a  friend." 

"What  friend?" 

"  An  old  friend  whom  he  met  the  other  day 
— a  Mrs.  Rogers,  I  believe,"  Mary  said  quietly. 

A  heavier  gloom  settled  itself  upon  Miss 
Baylor's  countenance. 


198  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  Nannie  Vance  !  We  all  thought,  at  one 
time,  that  Richard  and  Nannie  would  make  a 
match  of  it." 

A  quick  flush  went  over  Mrs.  Baylor's  face. 
"  I  suppose  it  would  have  been  a  great  deal 
better  if  they  had,"  she  blurted  out. 

"Perhaps  it  would,"  said  Miss  Baylor  un 
flinchingly.  "  The  Baylors  have  been  here  a 
long  time.  Our  great  great  grandfather  was 
one  of  the  earliest  English  settlers  in  Virginia, 
and  there  has  never  been  anything  but  honor 
and  respect  for  the  family  ever  since " 

"Until  now,  I  suppose."  A  temper  is  not 
a  pretty  thing  in  most  people,  but  there  is  a 
damask  rose  tint  on  Mary's  cheek  that  is 
lovely.  Miss  Baylor  is  not  so  severe  that  she 
cannot  see  it,  and  feel  like  muttering  "  A  doll's 
face!" 

"  I  do  not  consider  it  wise  for  a  man  ever  to 
marry  outside  his  own  class,  because  people  in 
different  positions  in  life  can  hardly  understand 
each  other's  customs."  She  cleared  her  rather 
raspy  throat.  "We  can  only  do  our  best  to 
keep  up  the  honor  of  the  family  by  offer- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  199 

ing  advice,  in  whatever  spirit  it  may  be  re 
ceived." 

"  May  I  ask  what  I  have  done  that  is  so 
different  from  the  customs  of  your  family?" 
There  is  anything  but  meekness  in  the  tone  of 
the  inquiry. 

"  In  the  first  place — and  I  do  not  see  that  it 
is  necessary  to  go  behind  and  beyond  that — 
since  you  first  attracted  his  attention  and  made 
his  acquaintance,  you  have  exercised  all  your 
power  to  keep  Reginald  Courtney  at  your  side, 
and  alienate  him  from  the  sweet  young  girl  to 
whom  he  was  engaged  to  be  married.  What 
ever  your  motives  may  be  I  cannot  say."  Miss 
Baylor  draws  in  her  breath  with  the  evident 
intention  of  going  on,  and  then  she  sees  a  look 
in  her  young  sister  in  law's  face  which  is 
rather  daunting. 

"  May  I  ask  how  I  am  supposed  to  know 
that  Mr.  Reginald  Courtney  is  engaged  to  be 
married  to  any  one,  and  what  possible  concern 
of  mine  it  can  be  if  he  is  engaged  to  fifty  peo 
ple  ?  Or  what  possible  concern  of  yours  ?  I 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  choosing  my  friends 


200  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

as  they  suited  me  personally,  and  I  shall  con 
tinue  to  do  so  indefinitely.  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
know  whether  you  are  sent  by  the  young 
man's  mother  or  his  sweetheart,  to  plead  for 
him,  but  you  may  take  back  my  word  that  I 
am  entirely  unacquainted  with  either,  by  their 
own  desire,  and  can  hardly  be  considered  re 
sponsible  for  my  acts  to  people  who  do 
not  even  exist — for  me." 

There  was  a  slow  red  flush  in  Miss  Baylor's 
face.  "  I  come  entirely  upon  my  own  account 
— for  the  sake  of  the  family  name,"  she  said. 
There  was  spite  and  venom  in  the  voice.  The 
speaker's  conscience  would  give  her  some 
severe  whips  did  it  realize  that  she,  a  good 
woman,  whose  daily  work  was  mission  schools 
and  benevolent  visiting,  was  exulting  in  deal 
ing  a  malicious  blow.  There  is  a  great  art 
in  so  educating  our  faculties  that  they  may  be 
upon  our  own  side  in  an  argument. 

"  When  your  brother  gave  me  that  name  he 
made  me  its  custodian,  and  himself  my  adviser," 
Mary  said,  her  small  head  aloft ;  and  bowing 
to  her  sister  in  law,  she  went  into  the  house 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  2OI 

and  left  her  sitting  there  upon  the  stiff 
wooden  settee,  to  go  home  when  it  suited  her 
convenience. 

Mary  was  miserable.  She  was  ashamed  and 
mortified  at  her  passage  at  arms  with  her  sister 
in  law,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  sur 
rounded  and  beset  with  trouble.  She  wanted 
to  put  her  hands  over  her  ears  and  run.  She 
wondered  what  Dick  would  say ;  or  rather,  not 
what  he  would  say,  but  what  he  would  think 
and  look  when  she  told  him,  for  of  course  she 
would  tell  him  all  about  it  just  as  soon  as  he 
entered  the  house. 

She  went  slowly  up  the  stairs,  half  listening 
and  looking  back  at  every  step  for  some  sound 
of  her  husband.  She  walked  into  the  big,  airy 
bed  room  where  she  slept,  and  stepped  into 
the  midst  of  a  confusion  of  garments  on  chairs 
and  floor  and  bed.  They  were  all  belongings 
of  her  husband. 

A  light  came  into  her  face  and  heart.  He 
must  be  at  home.  She  went  rapidly  through 
the  rooms.  He  was  not  there ;  and  then  a 
scrap  of  paper  stuck  in  the  frame  of  her  mirror 


202  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

caught    her  eye.     It  was  a  hastily  scribbled 
note  from  Dick : 

DEAR  POLLY  : 

I  met  some  friends  of  mine  starting  for  the  mountains 
for  a  four  days'  drive  and  trout  fishing.  I  have  decided 
to  go  along.  Kiss  the  baby  for  me. 

Always  yours, 

R. 


XVII. 

TVTEXT  door  to  Mrs.  Ellery  lived  her  bach- 
elor  brother  in  law,  Dr.  Charles  Ellery, 
who  might  be  called  the  doorkeeper  of  Ellen- 
bro'  life.  He  ushered  in  and  out  everybody 
of  any  consequence — anybody  whose  name, 
coming  or  going,  was  worthy  of  being  an 
nounced.  When  Mrs.  Ellery 's  husband  died, 
long  ago,  everybody  looked  at  everybody  else, 
and,  seeing  futurity  in  the  answering  eye 
beam,  looked  the  other  way,  and  virtuously 
condemned  the  people  who  had  no  more  re 
spect  for  a  sorrow  than  to  prophesy  its  speedy 
consoling.  But  years  had  come  and  gone. 
Mrs.  Ellery's  crape  had  grown  rusty,  and  had 
not  been  renewed.  Dr.  Charles  and  she  were 
the  best  of  friends,  but  there  had  never  been  a 
hinting  of  anything  more.  It  may  have  been 
that  Dr.  Ellery  had  glanced  enviously  over 

the  syringa  hedge  which  divided  the  grounds 
203 


204  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

and  sighed  as  he  saw  the  comfort  in  the 
widow's  domain,  but  if  it  were  so  his  sighs 
had  been  lost  on  the  air  and  had  left  no 
echoes. 

They  were  the  best  of  friends.  When 
baking  day  came  a  napkin  covered  plate 
always  went  through  the  hedge;  and  in  the 
autumn,  when  the  bobwhite  enticed  the  sports 
man,  and  Dr.  Charles  went  away  over  the 
fields  in  his  old  brown  corduroys,  Mrs.  Ellery 
ordered  no  meat  for  her  breakfast  next  day, 
knowing  that  she  would  have  broiled  partridge 
to  give  away. 

Mrs.  Ellery  was  particularly  congenial  to 
Dr.  Charles,  inasmuch  as  she  knew  how  to 
hold  her  tongue.  There  were  not  many  secrets 
of  Dr.  Charles'  keeping  in  whose  holding  he 
asked  anybody's  assistance  ;  but  he  liked  to 
know — as  who  does  not? — that  there  was  one 
person  to  whom  he  could  tell  a  story  without 
the  certainty  that  names  and  dates  would  be 
hunted  out  and  the  whole  tale  placarded  on 
the  public  mind.  Then,  too,  there  were  counsel 
and  sympathy  and  womanly  advice  on  the 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  205 

other  side  of  the  syringa  hedge ;  all  of  which 
Dr.  Charles  appreciated. 

It  was  Dr.  Charles'  custom  on  summer  nights 
to  walk  through  the  gate  let  into  the  hedge, 
and  to  find  his  way  over  to  the  seats  on  the 
grass,  where  Mrs.  Ellery  was  ensconced  for 
evening  coolness,  fanning  away  gnats  and 
mosquitos  with  a  big  palm  leaf  fan.  There  he 
would  sit  down  with  a  sigh  of  content  and 
smoke  his  evening  cigar.  Dr.  Charles  was 
slender  and  grizzled  and  bright  eyed  and  given 
to  silences. 

Tonight  he  has  asked  after  the  fall  crops  on 
Mrs.  Ellery's  farm,  and  has  heard  her  ideas 
upon  the  silver  question,  as  laid  down  by,  the 
Baltimore  Sun,  and  they  have  let  the  hours  run 
by,  and  darkness  come  on  without  a  thought. 

"  Have  you  been  up  to  see  Baylor's  wife 
again  ?  "  the  doctor  asks.  He  is  not  particu 
larly  interested  in  Baylor's  wife,  but  he  has 
gleaned  enough  of  the  current  talk  to  know 
that  she  is  a  popular  topic  of  conversation. 
He  makes  some  concessions  to  Mrs.  Ellery's 
femininity. 


206  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

His  sister  in  law  laughed  a  little  uneasily. 
"  I  have  not  had  the  opportunity.  Mrs.  Bay 
lor  has  not  returned  my  visit." 

"Did  you  want  her  to?"  the  doctor  asks, 
the  new  light  he  is  touching  to  his  cigar 
lighting  up  some  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of 
his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  Mrs.  Ellery  says  seriously. 
"  I  believe  none  of  the  idle  tales  they  tell  of 
her.  She  is  young  and  thoughtless  and  pretty, 
and  knows  little  of  our  ways.  Sometimes,  per 
haps,  our  ways  are  a  little  countrified.  But 
there  is  a  good,  true  light  in  those  eyes.  She 
makes  me  think  of  a  merry  young  girl.  I  can 
forget  that  she  has  a  husband  and  a  child. 
Possibly  she  forgets  it  too,  sometimes,  poor 
young  thing." 

"  It  isn't  a  good  thing  for  a  woman  to  for 
get.  Any  losses  of  memory  of  that  sort  are  apt 
to  be  made  up  with  something  of  a  jog." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  took  a  fancy  to  Dick's 
wife,  and  I  wish  she  would  let  me  be  a  friend 
to  her." 

"Is  she  unfriendly?" 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  207 

"  I  have  only  met  her  once.  Eliza  was  here 
this  afternoon  on  her  way  there.  I  am  afraid 
she  was  going  to  say  something  harsh  to  the 
poor  young  thing." 

"  She  looks  as  though  she  could  take  care  of 
herself,"  the  doctor  says. 

"  You  cannot  always  tell.  She  has  spirit. 
I  like  to  see  a  woman  with  some  spirit.  Upon 
my  word,  Charles,  I  do  believe  that  if  she  was 
one  of  our  own  girls,  and  did  exactly  as  she 
does,  there  would  be  nothing  said  about  her. 
The  poor  young  thing  isn't  to  be  blamed  for 
her  up  bringing.  She  couldn't  help  that." 

The  doctor  rather  likes  to  argue  for  the  sake 
of  bringing  out  Mrs.  Ellery's  palliating 
answers.  "  I  don't  believe  one  of  our  own 
girls  would  marry  and  then  keep  a  young  man 
dangling  about  all  the  time  as  she  does.  She 
had  Reginald  Courtney  out  in  the  meadow  all 
the  afternoon." 

"  Well,  now — those  may  be  her  ways." 

"  How  about  his  ways?" 

"  Who  can  blame  a  young  man?" 

Dr.    Ellery    laughs.      "According   to    you, 


208  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

there  isn't  anybody  to  be  blamed,  ever;"  and 
he  rises  to  go  home. 

There  is  a  sound  on  his  gravel  walk ;  and 
then  a  sharp  ring  at  his  door  bell,  just  across 
the  hedge. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  calls. 

The  tall  figure  comes  rapidly  toward  him. 
It  is  Reginald  Courtney.  He  finds  his  way 
through  the  gate,  slamming  it  back,  and  comes 
quite  near,  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  be 
overheard. 

"  Hello,  Reg,"  the  doctor  calls,  while  Mrs. 
Ellery  anxiously  arises.  "  Anything  the  matter 
at  your  house?" 

"  No."  There  is  constraint  in  his  heavy 
voice.  "  But  there  is  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Baylor 
who  is  very  ill — taken  suddenly.  I  happened 
to  be  there.  The  servants  had  gone,  and  Bay 
lor — wasn't  there.  I  offered  to  come  for  you." 
Then,  suddenly  recollecting  something,  he 
turned  to  Mrs.  Ellery  and  then  back  to  the 
doctor.  "  She  told  me  to  speak  to  you 
alone,  and  ask  you  to  tell  no  one,"  he  said 
bluntly. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  209 

"  Is  it  a  man  or  a  woman?"  There  was  the 
usual  quietude  in  the  doctor's  voice ;  but  Reg 
did  not  answer  him.  He  went  back  through 
the  hedge  and  on  into  the  dark  road. 

"  Well,  good  night,"  the  doctor  said  cheer 
fully  to  his  sister  in  law,  exactly  as  though  he 
were  going  home  and  to  bed.  "  I  believe  it  is 
going  to  rain  before  morning.  Better  shut 
your  windows;"  and  he  followed  Reg. 

Reg  walked  on  down  the  road,  past  the  gates 
which  led  into  the  Baylor  place,  and  which  he 
had  left  such  a  little  while  ago.  Just  beyond 
there  was  a  little  bridge  which  crossed  Willow 
Pond.  There  was  a  deep  hole  here  where  the 
stream  had  washed  out  an  eddy  for  itself  in  the 
spring  rains. 

Reg  stood  here  for  an  instant,  looking  over, 
and  then  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  drew 
out  a  small  object.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  it, 
but  Reg  knew  what  it  was — a  little  red  sea 
bean,  which  had  been  lying  next  his  heart. 
He  held  it  in  his  hand  for  an  instant,  and  then 
he  threw  it  over  into  the  deepest  part  of  the 
pool,  and  went  on  toward  home. 


210  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

The  whole  fabric  of  his  life  had  changed 
and  had  taken  on  a  rougher  weave.  There  had 
come  to  him  a  sorrowful  sense  of  the  com 
plexity  of  living.  It  had  seemed  such  a  simple 
thing  all  these  years.  There  was  only  the 
daily  coining  up  and  going  down  of  the  sun, 
with  enough  work  and  play  of  the  peaceful, 
commonplace  order  coming  in  between  to  keep 
life  cheerful  and  sweet.  And  then  suddenly 
everything  had  been  changed. 

Reg  was  a  manly  fellow.  But  he  was 
young,  and  the  experience  of  the  world  was 
not  in  him.  Probably  it  never  would  be  to 
any  great  extent.  There  are  some  natures 
which  remain  simple  and  primitive  through 
everything,  just  as  there  are  others  which  live 
upon  fine  and  subtle  distinctions,  which  are 
not  well  occupied  except  by  analysis.  Reg 
was  one  of  the  former.  When  Mrs.  Baylor 
had  come  supplying  some  want  which  he  had 
not  known  to  be  there,  it  had  been  like  a  new 
and  wonderful  gift,  an  outlook  into  a  country  of 
which  he  had  never  dreamed.  He  had  been 
so  overcome  by  the  wonder  of  it  all  that  it  had 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  21 1 

intoxicated  him.  He  had  been  blind  to  every 
thing  ;  he  told  himself  he  had  been  a  fool. 

He  felt  that  the  last  few  hours  had  put  him 
through  a  great  experience  ;  that  he  was  a  man 
of  the  world,  dead  to  the  fresh  inspirations  of 
youth.  Poor  Reg  !  As  well  might  a  sportsman 
who  had  wounded  a  partridge  talk  of  big  game. 

His  conscience,  too,  came  in  and  talked  to 
him.  "  I  have  been  a  brute,"  he  said  to  him 
self.  He  thought  tenderly  of  Edyth,  of  her 
goodness,  of  her  purity  and  sweetness,  and — 
oh,  man — of  her  devotion  to  himself.  There 
was  no  room  for  a  pang  of  jealousy  here.  He 
could  rest  in  sweet  security  that  his  shrine 
would  be  his,  and  his  alone. 

He  walked  on  and  on  until  he  turned  in  at 
his  own  gates.  There  was  a  cigar  burning  in 
the  avenue  walk,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  he  saw 
his  father  walking  up  and  down,  his  tall  form 
bent,  his  arms  behind  his  back.  He  stopped 
as  Reg  came  striding  on. 

General  Courtney  is  fond  of  quiet,  as  who 
that  lives  with  Mrs.  Courtney  is  not?  Reg 
has  never  dreaded  an  interview  with  his  father 


212  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

in  his  life.  As  he  came  up  now,  perhaps  his 
nerves  were  in  a  snpersensitive  state,  but  he 
involuntarily  braced  himself  for  what  he  knew 
had  been  awaiting  him. 

The  old  general  put  his  hand  upon  his  boy's 
arm  tenderly.  He  could  sometimes  forget  his 
ancestors  in  the  welfare  of  his  descendant. 
"Been  out  for  a  walk?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 

"  I've  been  over  to  Dr.  Ellery's,"  Reg  said 
doggedly. 

"How  is  Charles?" 

"  Well,  I  reckon." 

"  Well,  my  boy — I  am  glad  it  was  Charles 
Ellery  you  were  visiting.  It  isn't  often  I  have 
any  advice  to  give  you,  but " 

Reg  shook  himself. 

"  Don't  grow  impatient.  I  know  boys  will 
be  boys,  and  there  never  was  anything  particu 
larly  straitlaced  about  me.  But  there  is  a 
certain  sense  of  delicacy  which  you  are  losing 
sight  of  in  going  about  with  this  Mrs.  Baylor. 
Edyth  is  a  young  girl  here  under  our  care; 
you  are  engaged  to  be  married  to  her,  and 
you  are  not  treating  her  with  proper  respect." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  213 

There  was  dead  silence  for  a  moment,  and 
then  General  Courtney's  hand  rested  a  trifle 
more  heavily  upon  his  son's  arm,  and  there 
was  a  little  break  in  his  voice,  never  a  very 
determined  one.  "  I  want  to  have  one  son 
whom  I  can  look  upon  without  a  reproach." 

The  family  sorrow,  the  family  skeleton 
which  had  been  locked  away  so  long  ago  that 
its  bones  had  almost  ceased  to  knock  together 
with  the  sound  which  brings  a  shudder,  was 
more  potent  to  Reg  just  now  than  even  his 
father  could  imagine.  His  conscience  was 
sore,  with  the  soreness  of  a  conscience  which 
has  never  been  tried;  with  a  soreness  which 
was  aggravated  by  a  smarting  pride.  He  had 
told  himself  that  he  was  a  fool,  and  here  was 
his  father  fearing  that  he  might  go  astray  in 
the  paths  which  had  been  marked  all  his  life 
long  by  an  awful  warning. 

He  took  his  father's  hand  tenderly  in  his 
own.  "  You  need  not  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "  I 
suppose  I  am  a  fool,  but  that  is  all  over.  I  will 
go  to  Edyth  and  tell  her  so." 


XVIII. 

TT  is  a  curious  fact,  and  one  which  phil 
osophers  and  Christian  Scientists  might 
put  into  their  affirmative  list  of  phenomena — 
providing  that  matter  is  entirely  governed  by 
minds — that  when  a  man's  inclination  impels 
him,  circumstances  immediately  fall  into  place 
and  open  a  path  toward  his  goal.  There  seems 
to  be  no  other  road  to  follow. 

Reg  had  come  home  after  his  scene  with  Mary 
Baylor  and  eaten  his  dinner  in  a  reproachful 
silence  which  his  father  tried  to  break  by  dis 
cussing  why  Virginia  girls  married  so  few  titled 
men  in  comparison  to  New  York  girls. 

"  It  seems  as  though  they  naturally  would 
do  so,"  speculated  the  general,  "  being,  in  so 
many  cases,  so  nearly  allied  to  noble  old  Eng 
lish  houses.  But  it  is  true  that  in  the  North 
there  are  fewer  chivalrous  gentlemen  for  the 

young  ladies  to  select  from." 
214 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  215 

The  little  question  of  the  average  Virginia 
girl  lacking  one  of  the  chief  requisites  to 
eligibility  for  a  foreign  marriage  was  entirely 
overlooked  by  the  general. 

Even  this  interesting  subject  brought  out  no 
responses — and  the  dessert  of  home  made  ice 
cream  was  eaten  in  a  silence  that  corresponded 
with  its  own  chill.  After  dinner  Reg  went 
out  into  the  stables  to  smoke,  and  it  was  there 
that  his  eye  lighted  upon  a  bridle  which  he 
had  borrowed  from  Baylor  several  days  before, 
and  had  promised  to  return  the  next  day. 

It  seemed  imperative  that  that  bridle  should 
be  returned  to  its  owner ;  and  then,  he  wondered 
if  Mary  was  angry  with  him.  If  so — if  she 
thought  him  an  impertinent  young  scoundrel 
—he  felt  that  he  ought  to  go  over  and  deny  it 
— that  he  had  not  meant  to  say  that  he  loved 
her.  His  cheek  burned  at  the  thought  of  her 
supposing  that  he  meant  to  offer  any  disrespect. 
And  she  had  laughed  at  him  and  sent  him  home ! 
He  would  tell  her  that  it  was  not  necessary  to 
be  angry  with  him,  not  necessary  for  him  to 
stay  away  ;  that  he  was  in  no  danger  whatever. 


216  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

That  bridle  must  go  home  !  He  slung  it  over 
his  arm,  and  went  across  the  fields  in  the  late 
summer  dusk. 

The  house  was  all  dark  below  as  he 
approached  it,  except  for  a  dim  glow  from  the 
old  lantern  of  painted  glass  which  hung  from 
the  hall  ceiling.  He  went  confidently  down 
the  drive,  expecting  to  find  Baylor  and  his 
wife  sitting  there,  his  cigar  aglow  and  her 
white  gown  showing  in  the  rays  from  the 
lamp.  But  instead  he  heard  rapid — almost 
excited — talk.  He  hesitated  and  half  turned 
back.  It  couldn't  be  that  Baylor  and  his  wife 
were  quarreling  in  their  own  front  door ! 

There  was  a  cry — Mary's  voice  in  fright. 
Reg  thought  of  the  man  he  had  seen  that 
afternoon,  and  with  hardly  more  than  half  a 
dozen  steps  he  was  upon  the  veranda  and  in 
the  hall.  Upon  the  old  settee,  where  Miss 
Baylor  had  sat  in  judgment  this  afternoon, 
there  half  reclined  a  man.  In  an  instant  Reg 
recognized  the  shabby  figure  as  the  wreck  he 
had  seen  that  day.  Mary  was  holding  his 
head.  Down  the  front  of  her  white  gown  ran 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  217 

a  slender  stream  of  blood.  She  held  a  hand 
kerchief  to  the  man's  mouth.  She  drew  her 
breath  when  she  saw  Reg. 

"Oh,  come!"  she  cried,  hardly  knowing 
what  she  said.  "  Lift  him — bring  him  in.  He 
must  not  die  here." 

Almost  mechanically  Reg  followed  her 
directions,  lifting  the  emaciated  figure  in  his 
strong  young  arms,  and  carrying  it  to  the  bed 
Mary  had  hastily  prepared  in  one  of  the  guest 
chambers  on  the  ground  floor. 

"  Bring  him  here.  Oh,  lay  him  down  easily," 
Mary  said.  "  Poor  boy ! "  There  was  a  sob — 
fear,  sorrow,  pity — all  in  her  voice. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Baylor?"  Reg  asked. 

"  He  is  away."  There  was  a  straining 
cough,  and  the  man  half  rose  on  his  elbow. 
"  Go !  Go  for  the  doctor,  please,  quick ! " 

Reg  started,  and  then  she  looked  up  again. 
"  See  Dr.  Ellery  alone.  Speak  to  no  one  else," 
she  said  in  an  odd  tone,  looking  at  him  as 
though  she  had  recognized  him  in  that  instant 
for  the  first  time. 


XIX. 

TV/TRS.  ELLERY  had  not  finished  fastening 
her  windows  against  the  prophesied 
rain,  when  there  was  a  slapping  of  her  knocker. 
She  leaned  out  of  an  upper  window,  whose 
shutter  she  was  pulling  in.  She  recognized 
one  of  the  Baylor  servants. 

"  'S  that  you,  Mis'  Ellery?"  he  asked.  "Th' 
doctor  said  as  how  I  was  to  fetch  you  over 
to  our  house  jus'  as  quick  'sever  you  could  git 
tliar.  I'll  wait  down  here,  until  you  comes  out." 

"  I'll  be  there  directly;"  and  she  put  in  her 
well  ordered  and  unexcited  head. 

In  five  minutes  she  was  walking  down  the 
road.  She  did  not  stop  to  question  the  man. 
She  knew  that  she  would  learn  nothing  there. 
If  he  had  had  anything  to  tell  it  would  have 
been  poured  out  in  a  stream  the  instant  she 
met  him.  He  was  silent  with  the  dignity  of 

ignorance. 

218 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  219 

There  was  a  flutter  in  Mrs.  Ellery's  bosom, 
although  there  was  no  apparent  evidence  of  it 
as  she  plodded  along  the  dark  country  road. 
There  had  been  no  real  excitements  in  her 
calm  life  for  many  years;  those  which  had 
come  had  been  mostly  echoes.  Ellenbro's 
scandals  had  been  few,  and  the  perpetrators 
had  usually  been  considerate  enough  to  take 
themselves  away  from  the  easily  shocked  vision 
of  their  contemporaries,  and  let  the  tales  of  their 
wrong  doing  come  back  unassisted  by  personal 
corroboration,  to  be  supported  for  a  while  by 
malicious  tongues,  and  then  to  be  put  away 
in  the  minds  devoted  to  the  storing  up  of  such 
lumber. 

The  wide  front  door  at  the  Baylors'  was 
standing  open,  with  the  settee  against  it,  but 
there  was  nobody  in  sight.  The  negro  man 
had  left  her  at  the  gate  and  gone  on  to  his 
own  little  house  in  the  rear.  He  knew  his 
wife  must  have  been  in  the  house  by  this  time, 
and  this  was  the  quickest  way  to  learn  the 
news  of  the  trouble. 

Mrs.    Ellery    went    on    in    alone,    timidly. 


220  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

There  was  a  band  of  dim  light  which  came 
through  a  doorway  down  the  hall,  and  it  was 
here  that  she  stopped.  The  bed  was  opposite 
the  door,  and  shaded  from  the  light,  but  she 
could  see  a  face  surrounded  by  black  hair  lying 
against  the  piled  up  pillows,  and  hear  a  short, 
quick  breath  coming  and  going. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  is  her 
brother."  And  then  she  remembered  that 
Eliza  Baylor  had  given  her  the  letter  to  read, 
which  had  announced  Richard  Baylor's  mar 
riage,  and  he  had  said  explicitly  that  his  wife 
had  no  family  whatever.  But,  here  she  was, 
sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  holding  this 
man's  hand,  an  expression  of  anguish  upon 
her  face. 

The  doctor  stood  by  the  old  fashioned 
mahogany  set  of  drawers,  mixing  some  medi 
cine  in  a  glass.  His  sister  in  law  walked  over 
to  him,  and  stood  silent,  watching  the  white 
powder  dissolve  under  the  spoon. 

"  I  am  giving  him  an  opiate,"  he  said  com 
posedly,  as  though  everything  had  been  ex 
plained.  "  He  has  just  had  a  severe  hemor- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  221 

rhagc — and  must  sleep."  And  then  he  went 
on  with  directions  here  and  there,  which  Mrs. 
Ellery  began  to  follow  out,  trying  to  pay  no 
attention  to  that  miserable  figure  which  sat 
there  by  the  bed. 

After  he  had  administered  his  medicine, 
lifting  the  man's  head  deftly  and  tenderly,  Dr. 
Ellery  took  his  broad,  old  fashioned  straw  hat 
from  the  chair  where  he  had  laid  it,  and  started 
out.  Mrs.  Ellery  followed  him. 

"Where  is  Richard  Baylor?"  she  asked. 

"  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  here." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  I  didn't  ask.     It  might  be  embarrassing." 

"  Charles  Ellery,"  his  sister  in  law  said, 
with  heat  in  her  placid  voice,  "  I  am  ashamed 
of  you ; "  and  she  went  back  without  asking  him 
what  she  felt  she  must  know — who  the  sick 
man  was.  She  went  up  to  Mary,  and  put  her 
arms  across  the  young  woman's  shoulders. 

"  Come  away  now,  my  dear.  He  is  sleep 
ing.  The  medicine  is  taking  effect.  I  will 
take  care  of  him.  You  must  lie  down." 

Mary  let  herself  be  led  out  into  the  hall. 


222  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

There  she  sat  down  in  one  of  the  old  leather 
chairs  and  began  to  weep,  her  shoulders  con 
vulsed  with  sobs,  her  head  on  the  chair  back. 

Mrs.  Ellery  patted  and  stroked  her  hair. 
"  There,  there,"  she  said.  And  then  tenderly, 
"  Where  is  your  husband,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know."  She  puts  her  handker 
chief  to  her  mouth  and  chokes  back  her  tears. 
"  I  am  glad  he  is  not  here  ;  but  I  wish  he 
would  come  home.  He  wrote  me  a  note  say 
ing  he  had  gone  to  the  mountains  for  three  or 
four  days — with  some  people  I  don't  know." 

"  We  must  find  out  and  send  for  him." 

"No!     Oh,  no/" 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Ellery  said;  and  then,  still 
stroking  her  hair,  "  Who  is  the  young  man  in 
the  other  room?  He  is  very,  very  ill." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  I  know !  It  is  all  my  fault. 
He  told  me  that  he  was  ill,  and  I  did  not  ask 
him  to  come  in.  I  let  him  die ! "  And  her 
sobs  began  again,  but  there  was  no  word  as  to 
who  the  stranger  might  be. 

"  He  had  no  money,"  she  went  on.  "  I 
never  thought  of  his  having  no  money.  He 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  223 

has  been  sleeping  out  of  doors.  I  did  not  ask 
him  to  come  here.  How  can  I  ever  forgive 
myself?" 

"  You  did  not  know."  It  was  always  Mrs. 
Ellery's  way  to  comfort,  whatever  her  thoughts 
might  be.  And  her  heart  was  heavy  with 
fear.  There  was  some  secret,  some  unhappy 
story,  which  made  this  young  woman  fear  even 
the  husband  she  adored.  "  At  any  rate," 
thought  Mrs.  Ellery,  "  I  am  going  to  stay  until 
Richard  Baylor  returns.  I  can  do  that  much." 

Suddenly  Mary  started  up  in  a  panic.  "  Dr. 
Ellery  will  tell  no  one  that  he  is  here?" 

"No." 

"  He  must  not.     I  should  have  told  him." 

Mrs.  Ellery  went  back  into  the  bed  room, 
her  usually  placid  brows  knitted.  The  sick 
man  was  stupid  under  the  influence  of  the 
drug,  as  he  lay  there,  his  black  hair  dank,  and 
his  lips  parted.  She  looked  at  him.  Dissipa 
tion,  illness,  misery,  were  written  in  every 
line.  What  could  this  man  be  to  Mary  Bay 
lor?  After  all,  was  it  not  wiser  to  let  this 
strange  woman,  with  her  unknown  ideas,  go 


224  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

her  own  way?  Why  should  any  one  come  to 
champion  her,  when  she  must  have  in  the 
background  of  her  life  stories  they  could  never 
know  ?  And  then  her  youth,  her  prettiness, 
all  came  in  to  conquer.  Mrs.  Ellery  turned 
the  lamp  wick  lower,  and  settled  into  an  easy 
chair  with  a  sigh. 


XX. 

T)  EG  did  not  find  Edyth  that  night.  His 
new  resolutions  were  so  warm,  and  he 
had  expressed  his  determination  to  his  father 
so  forcibly,  that  he  felt  as  though  his  effer 
vescence  of  virtue  would  not  keep.  He 
must  get  it  over  with  at  once.  He  even 
hesitated  at  Edyth's  door  as  he  went  by,  and 
almost  made  up  his  mind  to  knock,  and  call 
her  out,  to  tell  her  that  he  had  been  a  fool. 

But  the  next  morning  he  was  glad  that  he 
had  not  done  so.  He  had  been  thinking 
entirely  of  his  own  attitude  toward  himself, 
not  of  Edyth.  He  would  have  been  putting 
himself  into  a  sort  of  school  of  penitence  for 
the  rest  of  his  days.  What  he  could  do  was 
to  go  to  her  and  tell  her  that  he  loved  her 
more  than  any  other  woman  in  the  world, 
and  ask  her  to  marry  him  at  once.  Morning 

found  him  still  in  the  mind  to  do  that. 
225 


226  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

It  is  a  common  custom  in  the  South,  since 
the  war,  for  servants  to  go  home  to  their 
own  families  at  night.  Very  often  they  live 
in  a  little  house  behind  the  "big  house,"  but 
oftener,  in  a  town  like  Ellenbro',  they  have  a 
quarter  of  the  town  to  themselves.  The 
houses,  small  and  roughly  made,  are  white 
washed,  and  sometimes  very  clean  inside,  with 
treasures,  presents  which  have  been  given  from 
time  to  time  by  "white  folks,"  on  mantel  and 
bureau.  Zinnias  and  morning  glories  bloom 
in  the  front  yards,  and  except  that  the  dancing 
of  other  days  is  almost  unknown,  the  social 
life  is  much  as  it  used  to  be  in  the  "quarters" 
of  a  big  plantation.  The  people  all  gather 
in  the  evenings  and  tell  each  other  the  news. 

Cynthia,  who  had  never  grown  to  like  Mrs. 
Baylor,  lived  on  the  place,  but  she  was  a  con 
stant  visitor  to  her  friends  and  relations  in  the 
town,  and  she  retailed  all  the  scraps  of  gossip 
she  could  gather  in  the  Baylor  household. 
She  was  a  mulatto  woman  of  more  than  ordi 
nary  intelligence  and  maliciousness,  the  result 
of  the  vicious  mixture  of  blood. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  227 

She  had  been  visiting  her  friends  this  even 
ing  when  Mary's  strange  visitor  had  come,  but 
while  she  had  gone  too  early  for  that  knowledge 
to  be  part  of  her  budget  she  told  of  the  long 
afternoon  which  Mary  had  spent  with  Reg,  and 
of  Mr.  Baylor  coming  in  to  find  his  wife  out, 
and  then  hastily  departing. 

"  I've  been  wonderin'  all  'long  jus'  when  he 
was  goin'  to  leave  her,"  Cynthia  said  con 
temptuously.  "  Anybody  on  this  earth  could 
see  th'  wasn'  no  quality  'bout  her  kind." 

The  next  morning,  as  Mrs.  Courtney's  old 
black  cook  was  going  toward  her  kitchen,  she 
passed  the  Baylors'  gateway.  Standing  there 
in  the  fog  of  the  early  morning  was  Cynthia. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  Aunt  Sally,"  she  said.  "  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  if  it's  too  early  to  gather 
mango  melons." 

Aunt  Sally  stopped  and  delivered  her  expert 
opinion  upon  this  profound  subject,  and  then 
Cynthia  let  out  the  story,  which  was  more  than 
she  could  keep. 

"  We've  got  company,"  she  said  with  an  evil 
smile. 


228  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

"  What  you  talkin'  'bout  makin'  mangoes 
fuh,  when  they's  company?"  Aunt  Sally 
grumbled.  "  Mangoes  ain'  gwine  to  take  no 
half  'n'  half  'tention.  When  you  make  man 
goes,  you  make  'em." 

"  I  don'  know  how  long  he's  goin'  to  stay. 
I  don'  know  how  long  Mass  Dick's  goin'  to  be 
gone.  You  better  let  on  to  your  young  Mr. 
Reg  that  his  nose  is  out  o'  joint." 

"  What  you  talkin'  'bout,  gal  ?  " 

"  Nothin'  't  all !  We've  jes'  got  company. 
A  gentleman's  stayin'  with  us  jes'  now.  Come 
late  las'  night.  I  ain'  seen  him  yet.  He  'pears 
to  be  feelin'  porely." 

An  hour  later,  when  Mrs.  Courtney  went 
into  her  kitchen  to  see  that  breakfast  was 
going  forward  properly,  she  was  told  the  story 
of  Richard  Baylor's  departure,  and  that  his 
wife  was  entertaining  a  gentleman  in  his 
absence.  As  she  poured  out  the  coffee  at 
breakfast,  she  told  it  again. 

Reg  ate  his  bacon  and  eggs  stolidly,  paying 
no  attention.  He  unconsciously  waited,  and 
his  heart  beats  were  a  little  slower,  to  see  if 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  229 

Edyth  would  make  her  additions  to  the  tale, 
but  he  looked  up  and  saw  her  gazing  into  her 
plate,  her  cheeks  scarlet.  Evidently  she  had 
not  told  his  mother  what  she  knew,  and  any 
further  mention  of  the  story  was  painful  to 
her.  Sometimes  in  this  world  it  happens  that 
people's  impulses  fit  into  their  proper  circum 
stances,  and  then,  once  in  a  lifetime,  it  comes 
about  that  two  people  are  penitent  at  exactly 
the  same  moment,  and  are  moved  to  say  so. 

After  breakfast  was  over  Reg  hung  about 
for  an  instant.  Edyth  took  the  flowers  from 
the  table  and  carried  them  into  the  sitting 
room,  and  he  followed  her.  She  had  not 
looked  at  him  at  all.  This  last  humiliation 
to  Mrs.  Baylor,  this  crowning  proof  of  what 
she  herself  had  said  yesterday,  had  not  made 
Edyth  exult.  She  really  and  truly  cared  for 
Reg.  She  cared  more  that  she  should  please 
him,  and  that  she  should  have  him  for  her 
own,  than  for  anything  else.  Now  that  it 
looked  as  though  he  must  see  what  sort  of 
woman  Mrs.  Baylor  was,  there  was  an  end  to 
all  resentment.  She  only  felt  sorry  and  dis- 


230  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

gusted  that  any  of  them  had  been  mixed  up 
with  such  a  creature. 

She  trifled  with  the  heavy  roses  and  the 
sweet  mignonette  which  her  own  hands  had 
grown.  And  when  Reg  came  and  stood  beside 
her,  she  trembled  a  little  and  nerved  herself 
for  her  apology ;  but  he  spoke  first. 

"  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon,  Edyth,"  he 
said,  and  some  way  the  voice  was  one  that  the 
old  light  hearted  Reg  had  never  learned,  "for 
what  I  said  to  you  yesterday.  It  was  unworthy 
of  me.  It  woiild  be  a  pity,  indeed,  if  there  was 
anything  in  the  world  that  you  could  not  say 
to  me — the  man  you  are  to  marry." 

He  put  his  hand  out  to  touch  hers.  She 
turned  and  looked  at  him.  There  is  in  her  face 
such  honest  love,  tenderness,  and  womanliness, 
that  she  is  pretty — and  it  is  sure,  and  pure,  and 
all  for  him  !  He  puts  his  arms  about  her,  and 
for  the  first  time  kisses  her  as  a  lover. 

"  I  was  wrong,  too,"  she  whispers  in  a  minute. 
"  I  meant  to  tell  you  I  was."  Hers  is  the 
woman's  heart — the  sort  which  makes  it  pos 
sible  for  men  to  have  wives. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  231 

Neither  of  them  ever  knew  that  much  that 
was  sweet  in  their  lives  had  come  through 
Mary  Baylor — that  there  had  been  springs 
of  feelings  opened  by  the  touch  of  her  fingers, 
which  would  flow  for  each  other  through  after 
years. 


XXL 

M^HAT  evening  all  Ellenbro'  was  ringing 
with  the  story  that  Richard  Baylor 
had  gone  away,  and  that  there  was  a  man 
who  was  very  ill  staying  at  his  house,  and 
that  Mrs.  Ellery  was  there  also.  The  last 
fact  was  a  later  addition  which  was  carefully 
tacked  on  to  the  original  tale  by  Dr.  Charles 
Ellery.  "  An  old  friend  of  the  Baylors,  who 
had  come  in  unexpectedly,  very  ill,"  he  said. 
"Mr.  Baylor  was  away  from  home  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  Mrs.  Ellery,  who  was  very  fond  of 
Mrs.  Baylor,  had  gone  up  to  stay  with  her." 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  change  the  look  of 
everything  that  Mrs.  Ellery  was  there,  and 
very  fond  of  Mrs.  Baylor.  "  But  for  the  Lord's 
sake,"  said  Dr.  Charles  to  his  sister  in  law, 
"  find  out  who  this  man  is.  I  am  afraid  he  is 
going  to  die  on  our  hands  before  Dick  Baylor 

gets  back.     I  suppose,  though  " — there  was  a 
232 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  233 

whimsical  streak  in  Dr.  Ellery — "  that  the 
earth  would  cover  him  from  Dick  Baylor.  He 
would  be  too  indolent  to  even  ask  a  question.  I 
have  found  out  that  he  went  off  with  John 
Vance  and  some  men  from  Baltimore  to  Rock- 
away  County,  to  fish.  I  sent  Elisha  after 
him." 

All  this  evening  Mary  has  walked  the  floor, 
feverishly,  miserably.  She  looks  out  at  the 
trees  about  the  house — the  trees  that  were  there 
before  she  was  born  and  will  be  there  after  she 
is  dead — and  she  hates  them.  She  thinks  of 
the  smell  of  the  roses  on  the  Twenty  Third 
Street  stands  in  New  York,  and  she  draws  in 
her  breath  with  a  longing.  If  she  were  only 
back  there  in  the  gay  crowd,  away  from  all 
this  trouble !  She  had  never  been  nervous  and 
unhappy  there.  When  Dick  was  gone,  she 
could  picture  him.  He  went  out  into  a  land 
which  was  familiar  to  her,  with  people  whom 
she  knew. 

Here,  it  was  all  so  different.  She  was  strange 
and  alone,  and  she  dreaded,  for  the  first  time 
since  she  had  known  him,  to  see  Dick  come 


234  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

back.  Her  heart  was  sick  and  frozen ;  she  had 
lost  her  happy  self  confidence. 

She  moves  restlessly  and  anxiously  about 
her  own  room.  Dolly  has  gone  to  sleep  long 
ago,  in  the  little  room  next  to  her  mother's, 
which  has  been  fitted  up  for  her.  There  is 
hush  and  stillness  and  the  shadow  of  death 
over  the  house — and  disgrace,  Mary  thinks 
bitterly.  What  can  she  ever  say  to  Dick  ? — 
and  after  all  it  is  no  fault  of  hers.  She  is  in 
no  way  to  blame;  but — she  shakes  herself.  It 
seems  to  her  that  she  is  being  made  to  suffer 
for  all  sorts  of  things  which  are  not  her  fault. 
She  sees  life  as  she  has  never  seen  it  before,  as 
something  unlovely. 

In  a  heart  like  Mary's  all  times  of  revolu 
tion  are  short  and  sharp.  Yesterday — it  seems 
so  many  yesterdays  ago — she  was  happy.  She 
despises  herself,  and  everything  else.  Her 
husband  no  longer  loves  her — and  this  old 
shadow  from  away  back  in  her  girlhood  has 
come  up  again  to  darken  her  life.  She  paces 
the  floor,  going  up  and  down,  up  and  down  the 
long,  bare  bed  room  where  so  many  Baylors 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  235 

have  lived  their  lives,  where  children  have  been 
born  and  men  have  died.  It  all  means  nothing 
to  Mary.  She  has  not  the  background  which 
traditions  like  these  bring  in  an  old  family. 
Happy  go  lucky  Mary,  who  lives  for  the  day 
alone,  whose  blood  is  of  quicksilver,  going  up 
and  down,  has  none  of  the  pride,  the  feeling 
which  comes  with  ancestors  and  ancestral 
walls,  be  they  ever  so  humble. 

Little  Dolly  stirs  in  her  sleep  and  wakens, 
sitting  up.  In  one  of  Mary's  rapid  movements 
by  the  door  she  sees  her,  a  little  dimpled, 
sleepy  eyed,  rosy  baby,  sitting  up  in  her  little 
bed,  looking  about  at  the  room  which  she 
hardly  knew  by  night.  Mary  went  to  her,  and 
kneeling  by  the  little  bed  drew  the  curly, 
tousled  little  head  against  her  bosom.  "  Oh, 
my  baby!  My  baby!"  she  said. 

From  down  stairs  there  comes  a  hollow 
cough.  Mrs.  Ellery  has  gone  home  for  an 
hour,  and  Dr.  Ellery  is  sitting  with  his  patient, 
looking  and  wondering  at  the  worn  and  cynical 
face.  The  door  opens  softly  and  Mary  comes 
in,  her  face  almost  as  pale  as  the  white  gown 


236  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

which  trails  on  the  floor  after  her.  She  looks 
years  older  in  this  day  and  night.  There  are 
black  rings  about  her  sweet  eyes,  and  the  short 
hair,  which  usually  curls  so  prettily  and 
coqnettishly  about  her  forehead,  is  pushed 
back.  In  her  arms  she  carries  little  Dolly, 
who  looks  about  her  amused  and  interested  at 
the  novelty  of  being  taken  out  of  bed  at  this 
hour  and  brought  down  stairs. 

Mary  walks  straight  up  to  the  bed  where 
her  visitor  lies,  and  puts  the  baby  down  beside 
him.  "  Here  is  the  baby,  Jack ;  you  said  you 
wanted  to  see  her." 

He  puts  out  his  thin,  dark  hand  and  touches 
the  tiny,  rosy,  dimpled  one  which  comes  from 
the  sleeve  of  Dolly's  night  gown. 

"  She  looks  like  you,"  he  said  huskily. 

"She  makes  me  think "  The  poor  thin 

face  has  been  distorted  by  a  smile  which  is 
almost  like  a  grimace  of  pain,  but  even  that 
glimmer  goes,  and  Dr.  Ellery,  who  is  watching 
the  scene  from  his  seat  by  the  window,  sees 
two  tears  roll  down  the  man's  hollow  and 
wasted  cheeks. 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  237 

"  There  never  was  a  better  woman  lived  on 
this  earth  than  yon  are,  Polly,"  the  sick  man 
said.  "  I  don't  know  why  all  the  sweetness 
and  forgivingness  should  have  been  given  to 
you,  but  I  don't  know  any  one  else  who  has 
them."  He  spoke  with  labored  breath. 

"No!  No!  "she  said.  "  It  is  only  that  I 
seem  like  that.  I  am  only  impulsive.  Other 
women  are  good,  and  kind — better  than  I." 

Mary's  tears  were  on  her  cheeks.  Dolly 
turned  solemnly  from  one  to  the  other.  Dr. 
Ellery  looked  out  of  the  window.  He  saw  a 
man  coming  rapidly  down  the  drive.  There 
was  no  indolence  in  the  walk  now,  none  of  that 
slow  movement  which  belongs  to  a  man  whose 
leisure  is  hereditary  and  an  integral  part  of  his 
nature.  It  is  certainly  Richard  Baylor,  but  it 
is  a  Richard  Baylor  whose  every  nerve  is 
keyed  up  to  the  highest  pitch,  who  walks 
down  the  drive  with  springing,  rapid  tread. 
He  has  only  just  left  the  train  which  is 
screaming  its  way  across  the  meadows  by  the 
river. 

Dolly  is  gazing  into  the  strange  man's  face. 


238  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Too  many  things  have  happened  to  her  in  her 
little  life,  she  is  too  prone — like  her  mother 
before  her — to  look  into  any  new  experience 
for  its  possibilities  of  pleasure  instead  of  pain, 
to  cry  at  the  unknown.  She  has  known  many 
men,  of  all  sorts,  and  that  this  visit  has  been 
the  cause  of  taking  her  out  of  the  bed  which 
even  at  this  early  age  she  considers  it  a  waste 
of  time  to  inhabit,  is  nothing  against  him.  She 
finds  him  strange,  but  not  fearful. 

She  does  not  hear  the  firm  sound  of  those 
footsteps  on  the  gravel,  coming  up  the  veranda 
steps ;  but  her  mother  does,  and  with  a  cry  she 
flies  out  to  meet  her  husband.  Everything  is 
forgotten  in  that  first  sound  of  his  nearness, 
that  footstep  which  has  never  failed  to  find  its 
echo  in  her  heart. 

Baylor  had  been  enjoying  himself  for  a  whole 
day.  The  attraction  which  Nannie  Vance  had 
had  for  him  had  been  of  the  kind  which  could 
easily  be  transferred  to  her  brother;  and  the 
men  from  Baltimore  had  happened  to  be  of 
exactly  his  own  sort.  There  had  been  stories 
told,  and  games  of  poker  played,  and  the  seek- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  239 

ing  out  of  a  camp.  They  had  expected  to 
settle  themselves  for  a  week,  but  when  Dr. 
Ellery's  man  had  put  in  his  appearance  with 
the  story  that  he  was  wanted  at  home,  Baylor 
had  forgotten  everything  but  his  wife  and 
child  and  had  started  back. 

When  Mary  came  to  meet  him,  when  he  saw 
the  dim  light,  his  first  thought  was  for  Dolly. 
"The  child!"  he  said. 

In  that  one  expression  Baylor  told  more  than 
he  knew;  and  it  was  a  knowledge  that  his 
wife  at  once  deplored  and  exulted  in.  "  The 
child  "  was  not  the  distinct  personality  to  him, 
not  the  individual  Dolly,  but  she  was  her 
mother's  child,  the  great  bond  between  them. 
She  was  theirs — and  infinitely  precious  for  that 
reason. 

Mary  put  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  and 
tears  of  relief,  of  self  pity,  ran  down  her 
face.  "  Dolly  is  all  right,"  she  said.  "  But— 
oh,  Dick!" 

"  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me  what  it  is  ?  "  There 
was  infinite  tenderness  in  Baylor's  voice.  He 
put  his  hand  up  behind  her  head,  and  held  it 


240  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

close  to  his  cheek.  "  Can't  you  tell  me  what 
the  trouble  is?  " 

"  I  should  have  told  you  long  ago,  but — I 
thought  it  was  all  forgotten,  all  over,  and  there 
was  no  need  of  worrying  you  about  it." 

"Yes?"  Baylor's  brows  were  knit  above 
the  ruffled  dark  hair,  but  he  held  the  slender 
figure  of  his  wife  close  against  his  breast. 

"  Long  ago — when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  had 
a  sister  Julia " 

There  was  a  clearing  up  of  Baylor's  face.  It 
took  on  again  the  look  of  calm.  "  But  she 
died,"  he  said  with  soft  positiveness. 

Mary  lifted  her  head  and  looked  up  at  him 
in  wonder.  "  Did  you  know  about  her  all  the 
time?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  Poncet  told  me  when  I  first 
met  you.  I  knew  it  was  a  painful  subject,  that 
she  had  died,  and  I  did  not  wonder  that  you 
never  spoke  of  her  to  me." 

"  But  her  husband " 

"  Yes,  and  I  know  that  her  husband  and  she 
were  unhappy — that  he  went  out  to  get  money 
for  her  in  some  way — anyhow — that  he  cheated 


THE;  FIRST  FAMILIES.  241 

at  cards,  and  that  he  killed  the  man  who 
caught  his  hand.  There  is  no  necessity  of 
your  telling  me  .any  of  the  story.  I  know  it 
all.  I  knew  it  before  I  ever  saw  your  face. 
Why  should  you  have  sent  for  me  to  tell  me 
all  this  now  ?  Did  that  tender  conscience  of 
yours  begin  to  hurt?  Or" — he  laughed  and 
held  her  tear  stained  face  away  from  him  and 
looked  at  it — "  did  you  hunt  about  for  an 
excuse  to  bring  me  home  ?  " 

"  He — Jack — is  here  now.  He  wrote  me  a 
letter  before  we  left  New  York.  He  wrote  me 
another,  and  asked  me  to  met  him  out  by  the 
spring — and  I  did.  He  is  ill — he  has  no 
money — he  is  dying.  Oh,  Dick,  sick  and 
dying,  he  has  been  sleeping  out  of  doors.  He 
came  again  last  night,  and  I  took  him  in." 

"  What !  "  Baylor  had  said,  as  though  her 
story  was  incredible ;  and  then  back  into 
his  old  calm  way,  "  You  did  perfectly  right. 
Exactly  as  I  should  have  wished  you  to  do. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  There."  She  pointed  to  the  bed  room 
door. 


242  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

Baylor  put  her  away  from  him  and  walked 
back  to  the  door,  walked  in,  and  closed  it.  He 
opened  it  again  for  an  instant,  and  put  Dolly 
into  her  mother's  arms,  tearing  her  delighted 
little  hands  from  his  face.  "  Put  her  to  bed," 
he  said.  "  You  need  sleep.  I  will  stay  here." 
Then  back  into  the  room  he  went,  and  held 
out  his  hand  to  the  man  lying  there  gazing  at 
him  with  the  big  and  brilliant  eyes  of  one  who 
might  be  gazing  into  another  world. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mason?"  he  said.  "You 
ought  to  have  come  home  before." 

Dr.  Ellery  watched  them  with  the  eye  of  a 
spectator,  until  he  heard  Baylor's  speech, 
and  then  he  gave  a  violent  start.  It  was 
probably  the  first  time  Dr.  Ellery's  nerves  had 
ever  so  entirely  controlled  his  movements  in 
years.  Starts  are  not  common  with  a  family 
physician.  But  in  one  moment  he  was  him 
self  again. 

"  It  seems  like  old  times  to  see  you  again, 
Dick,"  the  man  on  the  bed  said,  holding  the 
cool,  white  hand  in  both  of  his  hot  ones. 

Dr.  Ellery  came  up  and  touched  Baylor  on 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  243 

the  shoulder.  "  Let  me  speak  to  you  a 
moment,"  he  said. 

Baylor  turned  with  him  and  they  went  out 
side  the  door. 

"  Would  it  not  be  well,"  Dr.  Ellery  asked  in 
his  dry  voice,  "  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Courtney  to 
be  sent  for?  Mason  cannot  live  through  the 
night.  The  change  is  coming  fast." 

"  You  know  him,  then  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  the  physician  here  in  Ellenbro' 
for  over  thirty  years." 

"  Then,  Dr.  Ellery,  pardon  me  for  saying 
that  you  have  not  done  your  duty  in  not  attend 
ing  to  this  before.  You  must  have  known  that 
Mason  Courtney  was  a  dying  man !  My  wife 
has  no  suspicion  of  his  identity,  or  she  would 
have  done  so.  Death  heals  all  breaches." 

"  Not  with  Mrs.  Courtney." 

"  Yes,  even  with  Mrs.  Courtney.  I  never 
knew  my  owrn  mother,  but  I  have  learned  to 
know  what  the  instinct  is,  in  the  mother  of 
my  child." 


XXII. 

1X/TRS.  ELLERY  had  gone  home  for  an 
hour,  to  look  about  her  house  before 
coming  back  for  the  night.  When  she  opened 
her  gate  she  heard  voices  down  by  the  big 
front  door,  and  saw  that  it  was  open,  and  that 
two  chairs  had  been  brought  down  to  the  lawn 
and  were  occupied.  There  was  a  sound  of 
tinkling  spoons  against  the  sides  of  glasses,  and 
of  low  toned  talk.  Mrs.  Courtney  and  Miss 
Baylor  had  come  in  to  await  their  hostess,  to 
get  the  particulars  of  the  new  development  in 
the  town  topic. 

They  had  been  talking  it  over  between  them 
selves,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  take  up  in  the 
placid  presence  of  Mrs.  Ellery. 

"  You  see,  we  have  been  trying  your  rasp 
berry  shrub.  Molly  brought  it  out." 

"  Molly  knows  her  mistress,"  Mrs.  Ellery 

said  comfortably,   and    sat  down    in    a   third 
244 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  245 

chair,  as  though  she  had  nothing  whatever 
upon  her  mind. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  day?"  Mrs. 
Courtney  asked  pleasantly. 

"  I  have  been  helping  Charles  with  some  of 
his  business." 

"  It  is  a  very  sickly  season,"  Miss  Baylor 
remarked,  and  there  was  a  silence. 

"  There  isn't  any  use  beating  about  the 
bush,"  Mrs.  Courtney  said  in  her  dictatorial 
voice.  "  You  may  say  that  it  is  no  affair  of 
mine,  although  I  must  feel  differently,  but  it 
is  surely  some  concern  of  Eliza's  that  her 
brother's  wife  is  entertaining  her  friends  in  his 
absence.  Who  is  this  man  who  is  staying 
there  ?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know,"  Mrs.  Ellery  says 
positively.  "  I  only  know  that  he  is  an  old  friend 
of  Mrs.  Baylor's,  and  that  he  is  at  death's  door, 
and  that  Richard  has  been  sent  for." 

"  There  has  been  only  one  stranger  in  town, 
and  that  was  a  most  disreputable  looking  man, 
something  like  an  actor  in  appearance.  Oh ! " 
— there  is  virtuous  indignation  in  Mrs.  Court- 


246  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

ney's  tones — "  it  is  perfectly  disgusting  to  have 
such  a  creature  as  that  woman  polluting  the 
air  of  a  town." 

"  She  seems  to  me  a  very  sweet  and  chari 
table  woman,  if  she  has  taken  in  an  old  ac 
quaintance  who  is  dying." 

"It  is  that  man,  then ? " 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"Well,  here  comes  Charles;  he  will  tell  us." 
Mrs.  Courtney  is  angry.  Her  hatred  of  Mary 
Baylor  leads  her  beyond  all  bounds.  "  Charles, 
who  is  this  man  in  Richard  Baylor's  house  ? 
We  have  tolerated  enough  from  this  woman, 
and  it  is  our  duty,  as  upholders  of  the  dignity 
of  Ellenbro'  society,  to  know  about  her 
doings.  She  insulted  Eliza  only  yesterday 
afternoon." 

"  Mrs.  Courtney,"  Dr.  Ellery  said  with  his 
customary  dignity,  "  your  husband  is  waiting 
out  here  in  my  buggy  to  drive  you  home.  I 
think  he  wants  to  see  you  very  particularly. 
Perhaps  he  will  tell  you  who  the  Baylors'  guest 
is.  He  is  an  old  friend  of  Richard's.  Richard 
has  just  returned  lionif." 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  247 

There  is  that  in  Dr.  Ellery's  voice  which 
silences  Mrs.  Courtney.  "  Is  anything  wrong 
at  home  ?  "  she  asks. 

"  I  think  your  husband  would  like  to  see 
you  at  once.  Will  you  allow  me  ?  "  And  with 
old  fashioned  courtesy  he  offers  her  his  arm  to 
walk  to  the  gate. 

The  general  sits  with  his  head  sunken  in 
his  collar.  As  his  outline  appears  against  the 
late  evening  sky,  in  the  dusk,  he  looks  old,  old. 
He  holds  the  reins  with  listless  hands.  Dr. 
Ellery  puts  Mrs.  Courtney  in  beside  him  and 
they  drive  away.  What  they  say  to  each  other 
— how  that  heart  broken  old  father  tells  of  the 
wayward  boy  come  home  to  die,  taken  in  from 
the  fields  by  a  woman  they  have  despised — is 
not  for  our  ears. 

It  is  a  weeping  and  shaken  woman  whom 
Richard  Baylor  lifts  down,  and  who  goes  in 
with  his  father  to  say  good  by  to  the  boy  she 
shut  out  from  his  home  fifteen  years  ago.  Reg 
is  there  too,  very  solemn  and  ill  at  ease,  ready 
to  fall  at  Mary  Baylor's  feet  and  ask  her 
forgiveness.  But  the  opportunity  to  do  so  is 


248  THE  FIRST  FAMILIES. 

not  given  him.  The  Baylors  are  up  stairs, 
alone,  and  Mary,  drawing  long  breaths,  after 
her  sobbing,  is  sitting  nestled  against  her 
husband's  arm. 

"  I  have  been  so  unhappy  here  !  "  she  tells 
him. 

"  It  shall  be  no  more,"  Richard  Baylor  says. 
"  It  was  all  a  mistake  from  the  beginning. 
We  will  go  back  now  to  our  own  life,  and 
Dolly  shall  be  brought  up  in  the  world,  not 
in  one  little  corner  of  it.  The  little  flat  is  still 
there  in  New  York,  and  the  theaters  are  open, 
and  everybody  in  town  is  back.  We  will 
sell  this  old  rat  trap,  and  have  money  enough 
to  do  as  we  like." 

"  Will  you,  Dick  ? "  she  says,  but  she 
says  it  wearily.  She  thinks  of  the  dying 
man  down  stairs;  and  then,  too,  there  has 
gone  from  Mary,  in  these  weeks,  some  of 
her  youth.  The  purity  of  her  joy  in  life 
has  been  tainted.  But  she  turns  and  kisses 
him. 

"  It  will  be  sweet  not  to  think  of  othei 
people's  ways.  I  never  want  Dolly  to  know 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES.  249 

that  there  are  any  ways  but  the  simple,  natural 
ones." 

"  And  be  a  Bohemian  to  the  end  of  her 
days?" 

"  You  can't  be  any  more  than  happy,"  Mary 
says. 


THE  END. 


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IT  is  a  stirring  story  of  adventure  in  the  eastern  countries 
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"In  the  Reign  of  Boris" 

By  ROBERT  McDONALD, 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  PRINCESS  AND  A  WOMAN." 

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FRANK  A.  MUNSEY,  m  Fifth  Ave.,  New  York. 

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